


What Could Have Been

by bonmot507



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-13
Updated: 2013-02-13
Packaged: 2017-11-29 04:23:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 43,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/682717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonmot507/pseuds/bonmot507
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU, No Slayers or Magic. Willow and Tara meet once as kids, then strive to find each other for years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I wrote this a few years ago, and it lived at the Kitten, Witches, & Bad Wardrobe Board. There's a few things you need to know if you're going to read this: The setting is AU. Begins in 2008, jumps back to the summer after their first year of college, which by my calculations would be June 2000. Will jump to 2008. Will also jump between Sunnydale, CA and Portland, OR. Important things to note: Tara is not now or has she ever been a student as UC Sunnydale. Faith has never been to Sunnydale. Oh, and there are no slayers and demons and other evil creatures that go bump in the night. These are just people living life. Sad and depressing, Amazing and elating, it's just life. Paying attention to the headings will help. 
> 
> Also, I don't know yiddish, so sorry if I butchered it completely. Borrowed from an online dictionary. Enjoy!
> 
> Also, Also, the poetry is all mine. Please don't steal.

Portland, Oregon  
2008

She fought the urge to bolt out the door, running her sweaty palms down the front of her smart gray slacks. Her eyes hit the floor, and she let out a long breath, sucking another one in through her red full lips. Her tongue shot out and wet them, and she immediately pursed them together and glanced in the mirror one last time. Her hands went out to smooth her light brown hair, allowed to drop naturally down around her shoulders. Her blue cardigan was tight across her chest and stomach, unbuttoned slightly so a hint of her white undershirt peaked out. Her black boots peeked out just the right way from her pants, and she smiled despite herself. Not so bad, Maclay, not so bad at all…Not so bad for a girl who always felt like the nobody in the room. Well, you’re not going to be the nobody tonight. She let out another long breath, adjusting the glasses on the bridge of her nose. 

“Tara. You look beautiful.” She jumped a foot in the air, her frazzled nerves giving a shout as a voice sounded from the door behind her, a small blond stepping into the room and into Tara’s view in the mirror. “There won’t be a dry seat in the house!” Anya exclaimed, her grin reaching from ear to ear. “You’re ready to wet the dreams of hundreds.” 

“Th-thanks, I guess.” She winced, she hated stuttering, and had almost completely eradicated it from her speech patterns.. She had long since gotten used to her friend’s sexual nature, but it did nothing to calm her down. Now was the time to continue her slow breathing. Her eyelids shut, allowing her a moment to collect herself. “Is it packed in there?” 

“Oh, god, yes.” Anya sounded positively thrilled. “Isn’t it great? We’re going to make loads of money!” 

“It’s a free reading, Anya. We’re not going to make any money.” Tara smiled despite herself, leave it to Anya to care about two things: money and sex. At least it was comforting that that would never change. In this moment, she would take a reminder of anything that hadn’t changed. 

“But when they hear you read, they’re going to want to buy several copies of your book so they can read it again at home and masturbate.” Anya gave her two thumbs up in the mirror, smiling her “money smile”. “Okay,” she said, clapping her hands together, “you have about five minutes. I’m going to go sit in the audience, you…” Anya made a face, “you try not to have that look on your face when you come out, alright? Nervous isn’t sexy.” Anya bounced away from the doorframe, again leaving Tara alone with her thoughts. 

 

Portland, Oregon  
June, 2000

The soft pitter patter of the rain on glass did nothing to relax the redhead as she stood staring out into the great unknown of the city. A sigh forced her hand up and through her locks, and her green eyes searched out into the darkness. She didn’t look up at the knocking on the door, barely acknowledging the older couple who came through the door. Sheila flipped the light switch as she came through the door. “What are you doing in the dark, Willow?” The girl didn’t bother to open her mouth to answer, setting her jaw firmly into a look of distaste directed at the woman but turned away from her eyes. “Well, we’re ready to go. Have a great time exploring! We should have breakfast in the morning, don’t you think Ira?” 

“Breakfast with the two most beautiful women in my life? Absolutely.” Her Father’s face cracked into a grin, both of her parents seemed completely oblivious to her anger at being left. “You won’t get lost, will you, Bren?” 

Willow rolled her eyes at her father’s endearment, feeling, not for the first time, exasperated by her parents. “I can read a map, Dad.” 

Ira moved across the room and placed a kiss on the back of Willow’s head. “We’re so happy you came with us, sweetheart. You have fun tonight.”

Willow sighed again before turning to face her parents’ retreating backs. “You too!” As the door shut behind them with an audible click, she muttered dejectedly, “I love you.” 

In the absence of anything else to do, she moved across the room and picked up the hotel room phone, dialing without thought. She waited until a voice greeted her on the other end of the line. “Hi, Ms. Summers, is Buffy there?” 

“Hold on, Willow, I think she’s just about to walk out the door. Buffy?” Muffled sounds of mother and daughter conversing filled the empty noise in the room until Buffy picked up the other line. 

“Hey Wills, how’s vacation?” Buffy chirped cheerfully. 

“It’s… fine.” 

“You’re strangely monosyllabic. What’s wrong?” 

“They haven’t spent any time with me! What was the point of coming all the way to stupid Portland if they were just gonna do what they do in Sunnydale?” She let her body fall down to the hotel bed. 

“I’m sorry, Willow. Soon you’ll be on your way home to Sunnydale and your friends, so don’t worry okay? Why don’t you just make the most of it?” Buffy sighed. How often could Willow continue to be disappointed by her parents and not begin to resent them? She remembered how excited Willow had been that her parents had suggested she take the trip with them. 

“And do what?” 

“Go out. Meet some people. You spent weeks checking out information on Portland, I’m sure there’s stuff you want to see, right? What was that bookstore you were going on and on about?” 

“Powell’s. It’s a whole city block of new and used books. I saw it, it’s incredible, all of that information in one place. Giles could seriously get lost in there! All I could think of as we drove by was the look on Giles’ face if he saw it.” Willow’s voice perked up at the mention of her true father figure. 

Buffy smiled hearing the upturn in her friend’s mood. “I know how hard things have been for you since you and Oz…” She winced, wishing she hadn’t said his name. “But this is a chance for you to go out and be someone else for the night! Think about it, no one knows you Willow! You can be anyone you want to be. Meet some people, have some fun, and then come home to the Scoobies. We miss you.” 

Willow sat, letting her friend’s words wash over her. It made sense, didn’t it? That this was her chance to break out from Willow Rosenberg, high school nerd, now college nerd. Ever since Oz left, she’d pushed herself back into her studies, keeping herself busy. In this strange city she might actually get a chance to be Willow Rosenberg, woman of mystery. 

* * *

She had succeeded in wandering through Powell’s for a few hours, picking up a few books that she had found interesting. After talking with the cashier for a few minutes (a good looking boy, even with his spiky hair dyed blue and his several piercings), he had persuaded her to walk down to VooDoo Doughnuts. 

“Everybody from the bars go there, so you may have to deal with some drunk kids, but it’s a Portland institution.” He flashed her a disarming smile. “Kind of like this place, actually, just more tasty.” 

“Well, if it’s a must see, then I must see it.” She smiled back him, wondering at her bravado. Am I actually flirting with him? He looks a little bit like Oz, short and spiky hair, nice smile, much more talkative. WooHoo with mystery woman Willow!

“Maybe I’ll catch you around there, later.” He smiled at her again. 

“Maybe you will.” She tried her best at a sexy smile. “Bye.” She grabbed her bag, directing herself out of Powell’s, and in the direction of the doughnut shop. 

* * *

Approaching the street VooDoo was on, she passed by several adult bookstores and a few bars. People passed by her in a hurry, but she allowed herself to slow down and really look around her. The Burnside Bridge was clearly visible from where she was standing, and she knew that there was a whole other east side to the city she was probably not going to ever get to see. She had passed a fair amount of homeless people on her walk, but for the most part they had seemed friendly, if not a bit desperate. I feel comfortable walking on my own here. She thought to herself, pleased with the revelation. I feel strong. I feel competent and able. She smiled, feeling fully herself for the first time in a long time. 

Her stride picked up as she allowed the confidence to flood her body. She approached the shop, carefully sidestepping a group of five or six kids hanging out in front. She was about to move towards the door when one of them pushed in her way. 

“Hey Red, got a dollar?” The girl asked, pushing her whole body in front of Willow. The brunette wore a leather jacket and dark jeans, and had a slightly dangerous look in her eye. Willow hesitated, unsure of how to respond, and the girl slid her body more closely into Willow’s. “C’mon, a pretty girl like you has to have a dollar.” She smiled, the crook of her mouth and the glint in her eye forming an overall predatory demeanor. “I’ll kiss you for it.” 

“I…” Willow’s mouth opened to speak as her eyes darted frantically around the group. They were an odd bunch. Her eyes slid from face to face, looking for the hint of something to tell her it was a joke or if it was another bully taking her lunch money. She faltered, her eyes falling to a girl, leaning back against the brick wall. Her breasts pushed against the restrictive white cotton of her shirt, and Willow’s eyes fell to them, unable to glance away. In the dim streetlight, the girl’s mouth was parted, and her eyes were large – her pupils black and dilated. She moaned, running a hand over her stomach. 

The bully’s eyes followed Willow’s, and she smirked. “Better yet, I’ll let Tara kiss you.” Willow’s eyes looked to the brunette in shock, and she began to shake her head. “Aww, c’mon, Red, I saw you looking. She won’t care, she’s too fucked up to notice.” 

“What’s wrong with her?” Willow’s voice trembled, and her face pinched as she gave away her weakness. 

“Nothing’s wrong with her, Red, she’s just having a good time.” With that, the girl grabbed the blond and pulled her into her own body, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “Hey, T, this girl will give us a dollar if you kiss her.” 

The girl’s eyes sought out Willow’s, and Willow felt herself gasp. Staring at her were the most blue eyes she’d ever seen, beautiful, like a lake or the ocean or something amazingly wonderful that she couldn’t place. The brunette slid her arm away from the girl, and pushed her forward. The girl seemingly had little control as her body propelled forward into Willow’s and she giggled. 

“Your eyes are so green.” Her breath smelled sweet, and it tickled Willow’s face. Their lips were close, and the blond leaned forward, her soft lips sinking into Willow’s, her hands feeling their way around her sides and firmly planting themselves on Willow’s back. The kiss was soft until Tara opened her mouth and pushed her tongue unceremoniously into Willow’s, tracing the redhead’s lips, and seeking out the inner walls of her mouth, mapping it. Finally she pulled her face back, and gave a contented sigh. “You’re beautiful.” She whispered, her words reaching Willow’s ears only. Her hands began to move again, feeling the softness of Willow’s breasts pressed down against hers. She moaned into the feeling. 

For Willow’s part, the girl’s kiss had been earth shattering. She had never felt such a beautifully warm sensation before, so soft, so lingering. But it was nothing, not even a slight miniscule of anything, in comparison to the moan that had escaped the girl's lips. That moan, that moan that their bodies had caused by fitting together in a delicious embrace, that Willow had caused simply by existing and living in the body she did, that moan would haunt Willow for years afterwards. The sound of it would compell her to do things she never before thought possible, it would drive her insane with need and want, and it would fuel her fantasies until the day she died. Before she could process the paradigm shift that was changing her entire world, Tara was being pulled away. And in her place, ugliness remained. 

“The dollar, Red.” The brunette’s voice now hinted at the homicidal, her anger poked through around the edges and sent a shiver down Willow’s spine. She began to reach for her pocket, simply afraid of not complying, when she heard another voice that echoed the first in its effects but not its tone. 

“Can I just be kissing her?” Tara laughed. “Please, Faith? She tasted like strawberries and she looks like fire.” Tara’s hand reached into the air, as if tracing Willow’s hair.

“Let it go, T. You’re just rolling. You won’t even remember her in the morning.” Faith’s hand pushed in front of Willow’s face, her eyes sending a warning to not speak or move a muscle. Willow found and placed the dollar in Faith’s palm before pushing her way into the store. 

* * *

As she felt herself coming back to consciousness from her dream state, she was mildly aware of her discomfort. Groggy, somewhere between awake and her dreams, she tried to place where she was. She felt dirty and thirsty, and there was a cramp in her neck. Slowly she opened one blue eye, placing much more slowly than usual the faded curtains over the windows, the brick of the walls and the chill that hovered in the air. She must be in Faith’s rat trap apartment. She brought her hand to her neck, slowly rubbing at the concentration of pressure and tenderness. “Hey T, good morning.” Faith’s voice was cheery in the gloom, and at the sound of it she closed her eye again. 

The noise that came out of her throat resembled something of a moan. She felt something slightly wet being pushed into her hand and opened her eyes to see a glass of water. Raising it to her parched lips, she nodded in thanks. “Morning, Faith.” Her jaw ached as it opened and closed, and her hand darted to the side of it, giving it a good rub. 

“You were outta your mind last night, T.” Faith laughed. 

“I remember.” Tara sighed. 

“Aww, c’mon, T, don’t be like that. We all had a good time.” Faith sat down on the edge of the bed beside Tara, dropping a hand to her knee. “You wanted to have fun, remember?” 

“I remember that too. Although, I don’t remember asking for ecstacy to be involved.” Tara’s face contorted into a grimace, feeling the pain that she had caused herself last night. 

“You were gung ho about it at the time.” Faith’s hand began to run in circles on the inside of Tara’s thigh. 

“Faith, please…” She stood up, immediately regretting her rash decision. She took a step forward and then back to steady herself. “We can’t do this again.” 

“Do what?” Faith’s voice was harsh. “We’re not doing anything.” 

“What time is it?” Tara asked, changing the subject. 

“Just shy of seven. I was going to wake you in a few minutes anyway. You have work to get to.” The harshness in her voice had dropped back down, seemingly controlled. A genuine warmth, a caring replaced it. 

“Shit. I do.” 

“Borrow something, and I’ll drive you there.” 

“I can’t wear leather to work.” Tara teased, before heading over to Faith’s closet, and pulling out a fresh shirt and a pair of black pants. 

“Alright, then put on the crappy clothes you leave here and then I’ll drive you.” Faith teased right back. 

The way to the restaurant was quiet. Neither girl felt the need or the desire to speak. They were almost halfway there when Faith began to laugh. “You really were outta your mind, T. Do you remember kissing a total stranger?” 

“I thought that was a dream.” Did she remember? Of course I remember kissing the woman of my dreams! She was so beautiful, and I was so fucked. The story of my life. She sighed again. If only I could have met her some other way… what I wouldn’t give for a chance to talk to her, to apologize, to try to explain. Explain what, McClay? That you take drugs? That you want to escape your pathetic life so badly that you’ll buy artificial happiness? Why would a girl like that ever want a girl like me? 

* * *

Willow stood with her parents, waiting for a table just inside the restaurant. Her mother babbled on about the conference they had attended that week, including the dinner they had just attended the night before. Willow tried not to fall asleep or scream. But she wanted to scream. She wanted to stay in bed that morning, when her parents had woken her up, reminding her about the previously planned breakfast. Why is it that when I want to spend time with them, they can’t get any further away, but the minute I want some space to work things out, there they are? At least the restaurant had coffee available for the people waiting for a table. That at least she could be thankful for. Finally, the hostess came over to tell them that they’d been seated. She plopped down in a seat across the table from her parents and faked a smile as the hostess handed her a menu. “Your server should be with you in just a moment. We’re a little busy today.” The hostess flashed the Rosenbergs a big smile and retreated. 

“What are you in the mood for, Bren?” Her father asked, looking over the menu. 

“Ham or bacon.” She said, under her breath, muttering. She was doing her best to ignore this entire situation, hoping that her parents would take her silence for her being tired. “I don’t know, Dad, maybe pancakes?” 

“What did you do last night, Willow?” Sheila asked, looking at her daughter as if she were some kind of exhibit at a museum. 

I kissed a girl. I liked it. I’m afraid it means I’m gay. “I went to Powell’s, and then to a place called VooDoo Donuts…” 

“Hi, my name is Tara, I’ll be your server this morning.” Tara had heard the last two exchanges of the customers’ conversation but had begun speaking before she completely registered the words. Her eyes widened in surprise as she caught sight of the redhead sitting in front of her. Oh my god, it’s her. 

Willow glanced up at the sound of the voice and was similarly flabbergasted. It’s her. And for what seemed like an eternity to both of them, they stared at each other. Ira and Sheila looked back and forth between the girls, and then at each other, wondering what was passing between them. “Do you know each other?” Ira asked, wondering at the look of horror on his daughter’s face. 

“No.” 

 

“Yes.” Willow answered over Tara’s reply. Their eyes met again, and finally Willow spoke with careful concentration. “We met last night, actually. Outside of the donut shop I was just starting to tell you about. Yes siree, just met her outside. She was hanging out with a bunch of her friends.” Finally, she turned her attention back towards the girl, amazed she had gotten out all of the words without passing out. “Tara, right?” 

Tara nodded, wishing the floor would swallow her. “N-nice t-to see you again?” It came out as a question, though she hadn’t meant it to. I haven’t stuttered in months! Shit. She forced herself into action. “S-so, what can I get you folks?” 

“Willow was just saying how much she wanted pancakes.” Ira answered with a smile, happy to see his daughter was well adjusted and could make friends anywhere. 

Her name is Willow. That’s so beautiful, what a gorgeous name. Just like the girl herself. “G-great, and f-for you?” 

* * *  
After the order had been taken, and Tara had slipped away to work, Willow excused herself from the table. Pushing open the door to the bathroom, she walked straight over to the sink, ran the cold water and began splashing it in her face. Her eyes played a game of darting away from the mirror whenever she started to look at herself, but ultimately they failed. She stood for several moments, staring herself in the eye, wondering who it was that was staring back at her. She looked mostly the same, red hair that touched her shoulders, bright green eyes that took in every line of her own face, nice skin that betrayed nothing of her aging, remaining perfect still, as if frozen in time. She could see no change, but she knew. She knew she was inherently different than the girl who had called Buffy last night. That girl was still in love with her ex-boyfriend, the one who left her for someone else. This girl was attracted to a woman. She was so busy staring at herself she didn’t hear the door open. She didn’t see someone standing behind her in the mirror. In fact, Tara’s presence in the room was only given away when the scent of her touched Willow’s nostrils. She inhaled deeply, turning to seek the origin of what seemed at once totally familiar and completely foreign. 

“I’m sorry, Willow.” Tara’s voice was soft, but her words were crystal clear. Willow couldn’t help but feel her heart lift as the girl spoke her name.


	2. Chapter 2

Portland, Oregon  
February, 2008 

She pulled her glasses off of the bridge of her nose, and set her face in her hands. She rubbed her fingers over her forehead, temples, and eyes before looking back at the computer screen in front of her. Rereading the passage for the fifth time, she knew something wasn’t right. The words seemed awkward and out of place, something about the paragraph irked her. A reminder popped up on her computer screen, letting her know she’d been working for five hours and twenty-three minutes. Despite the irritation of the reminder, she smiled. For a girl who only cares about money and sex, Ahn, you sure do seem to do a lot to take care of me. Her feet uncrossed and placed firmly on the ground, and using her hands she pushed away from her work. 

Grabbing the coffee cup from her desk, her feet padded against the hardwood floors of her apartment as she headed into the kitchen. Dumping out the old coffee, she tossed the mug into the dishwasher before grabbing a wine glass and a half-drunk bottle from the fridge. Her movements slowed as she stood, pulling the cork from the bottle, staring off into space. Glass of wine for one. Well, that’s not exactly surprising, is it? You spend all your time editing and hiding in this apartment. The only time your roommate can get you out is for readings. The last time you had a date, you spent three hours comparing her to a girl you met eight years ago who might as well be a fantasy. Feeling frustrated with herself, she pushed a hand through her hair, and was completely startled when the phone rang. She stared at it, willing the person on the other end to just stop calling, knowing full well it was probably Anya. 

Finally, the answering machine picked up, playing the message she’d grown so used to hearing. “Hello, you’ve reached Anya Jenkins and Tara Maclay. We’re not here right now – well, Tara is probably here and ignoring you – but so far as you know we’re not here right now, so leave a message.” The machine beeped, and the same voice she had just heard filled the apartment. 

“By now, you’ve seen the reminders I’ve left on your computer for you to stop working for today. If you still are, I’ve set your computer to self-destruct once it hits five hours and forty-six minutes, so I hope you’re taking a break.” There was a pause, followed by a brief laugh. “I’m partially kidding.” Another laugh. “I am out tonight, but I’m sure you already know that. My advice to you, Tara, is to go out and do the same. You need an orgasm friend, and despite all my offers, you keep rejecting me. Have a good night, stop working and take care of yourself! I’ll see you in the morning.” The machine beeped again, and then went silent. At least somebody loves me… Well, she’s right about one thing, I certainly need an “orgasm friend”. Her face crinkled in disgust. Or at least a friend other than Anya!

She moved towards her bedroom, her hand caressing the wood of her door before pushing it open. Her room had just a slight chill to it, and she felt her nipples respond to the change in temperature. She placed her wine glass on the bedside table, and slid into bed, moaning slightly as she stretched her body. She was surprised by how achey her body felt, how removed from it she was. Although, I guess if you’re spending your time with words rather than people for twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week for the past few months, then it would make sense to feel removed. She allowed her hands to drift over her form, passing over her breasts, touching the skin over her stomach, her hand slipping down to her thighs, tracing what little nails she had over the skin. Her hand passed unbidden past the waist of her sweats, underneath her panties, and grazed herself lightly. She was not shocked to find herself wet. You spend all that time with words about her, of course you’re turned on. 

She allowed herself to push her finger back down, making light contact with her clit, her hips rolled in response. I must need this more than I thought. She closed her eyes and called up the image, the sensations readily. Willow. The name popped in her mind, and she saw it all: the red hair, the beautiful green eyes, her perfect, soft body. She remembered the sensation of kissing her with abandon on the street before she had a name to identify this beauty in form. With a moan, the sensation of pressing her breasts against the other girl’s flooded all of her senses. With shocking clarity, she could recall the scent of shampoo and a slight hint of perfume, the heat of the skin of her back on her hands. It was made more intense by the effects of the drug she had been on when the moment happened, but she pushed the thought out of her mind, wallowing in the sensations if not the reality. 

Her imagination firmly took the assorted memories and began to press them into new form, the feel of her breasts against Willow’s back, reveling in the heat. She pushed herself harder into the mattress, her hand seeking and finding her own wetness. Her fingers traced the outline of her sex, dipping in and touching her clit lightly. She moaned, grinding the finger down harder against herself. Biting her lip, she tasted blood, and moaned into her mouth. She was accostomed to the ferocity of her own desire. Thrusting her hips forward, she pressed into herself again and again, feeling the curve of Willow’s ass meeting her insistence. She pushed the thin fabric of her t-shirt up, and grabbed at her nipple with her other hand, wincing slightly against the pressure, rolling out onto her back. 

Thrusting her hips forward again, she arched her back as she drove her fingers into herself, gasping. A flash of red hair flitted through her mind as she pushed her thumb into her clit. Dancing green eyes forced her fingers into her harder, faster, again and again, until pressure started to build in her mid-section, stretching down her legs and curling her toes. She stilled her movements, and driving her thumb over her clit once more, releasing herself into her orgasm, moaning as she called out for her imaginary partner. “Willow!” Catching her breath, she sighed, her lips curling around the name and whispering it again for good measure. “Willow…” 

Sunnydale, California  
July 2000

Tara cracked a grin and laughed, filling the bedroom with its beautiful, lyrical quality. Willow reached up and pushed her fingers into Tara’s armpits, wiggling them to tickle the girl, a matching grin springing up on her face. Tara’s form collapsed onto Willow’s, hips to hips, stomach to stomach, breasts to breasts, and then lips to lips. They slid together, Tara arching forward into Willow, calling forth a low moan from the other girl in delight at the unexpected contact. Their hands met on the mattress, before Tara brought them both up and over Willow’s head, loosening her grip with one hand, while pressing the other girl down at the wrists with another. Her grin shifted into something lavicious, running her free hand down the length of the redhead’s body, and pushing her hand up between her thighs. “Is this what you want?” She demanded, her voice sending a chill down Willow’s spine, forcing her back to arch and her hips raising to meet Tara’s. 

“Yes.” Willow felt her voice crack, staring up in wonderment at the assertive girl on top of her. “Yes…” 

Tara’s smile beamed brighter, her hand sliding easily into the depths of wet that she found between Willow’s thighs, pushing easily inside of her with two fingers. “This is what you want.” Her voice was as penetrative as her fingers, and Willow dropped her hips, bucking against Tara, feeling herself filled with the other girl. 

The sound of a thud forced Willow to open her eyes, her dream slipping out of the grasp of her memory as she shot up in bed panting. Her body felt taut, her skin flushed and aching for touch, her mind desperately trying to keep some semblence of the dream with her. This is what you want. Tara’s voice repeated in her mind, the soft, warm weight of the girl seemed to held Willow’s body as she pieced together what her subconscious mind was telling her. This is what I want. I want Tara. I want her. I want to have sex with her. …Okay, definitely feeling gay here. 

She glanced around the room, trying to find the source of the thud noise. Nothing seemed out of place, and her eyes began to close again, her mind drifting, trying to force herself back to the dream. But the thud came again, and once more, and her eyes shot open and looked towards the door. It wasn’t long before the sound came to confirm her fears. “Wills? Willow. Wake up.” Buffy’s voice was muddled by the door between them, but it’s insistence was not lost on the girl. Sighing, she rose from bed. 

“Just a second, Buff.” She stretched, glancing at herself in the mirror. Bed hair, pajamas, and barely opened eyes met her gaze. Deciding Buffy deserved no special treatment, she wandered over to the door and opened it, wincing against the flood of light. 

“Hi!” Buffy grabbed the girl pulling her into her arms. “What’s going on with my Wills?” She stepped back out of the loose embrace and crinkled her nose at her friend. “Why are you still sleeping?” 

Willow shrugged. “I didn’t have anything else to do.” 

“Willow, where’s your head these days? We were supposed to do mochas!” She pushed past her friend into the darkened room, flipping the light switch and wandering over to the closet. 

“I’m sorry, Buffy, I just forgot.” Willow sat down forlornly on her bed, watching her blond friend rifle through her things, pulling out jeans and a t-shirt. 

“I don’t know what’s going on with you, Willow.” Buffy turned towards her a friend, a concerned look in her eyes. “Ever since you got back, you’ve been super spacey.” 

“Like Kevin Spacey spacey?” Willow’s lips upturned ever so slightly into the beginning of a smile. 

“Something like that.” Buffy answered, sweeping her eyes over her friend’s mostly sullen form. “Something’s going on in Willow world. It’s like…” She trailed off, biting at her lip to stop her next words. 

“It’s like when Oz left.” Willow finished for her, and their eyes met. Buffy crossed the distance, nodding, and sat down next to her. 

“So, spill, Will.” She smiled. “I’m here in best friend capacity to help you back into the real world.” 

Willow leaned into Buffy’s shoulder, giving herself a moment of comfort before shaking off her growing sense of dread. “I’m not sure you want to know.” Willow’s voice was small, the general effect on the girl made her seem fragile. 

“I always want to know.” Buffy reaffirmed. 

Willow stood, and began to pace the carpet beside her bed, trying to find the words. “Something happened in Portland, something weird. Something I… I don’t know, I guess I just can’t rationalize it away. It keeps invading my thoughts and my brain and my dreams and I can’t let it go. I keep trying, but it just won’t go away.” 

“Did somebody hurt you?” Buffy’s eyes expanded, flaring with anger. “I’ll slay them!” 

“No, no, nothing like that.” Willow sighed, feeling tears welling up in her eyes. She tried to push the words out, but her tongue was heavy and resistant. Finally, she drew a deep breath and forced out “I kissed a girl!” 

Neither of them moved. Silence filled the room, and Willow felt her body refill with dread, and in the absence of anything else to do, she began to babble. “Well, actually, she kissed me. But still… I think I liked it. A lot. And I keep trying to put it out of my head, y’know? I mean, I’m not gay. I’m not gay.” She repeated herself with more force. “But what if I am? I loved Oz, I did, but he left. And maybe he left because it was never truly right. Maybe because I loved him but I couldn’t be in love with him the way he wanted…” She trailed off, casting her green eyes in the direction of her speechless friend. Buffy’s face gave little indication of what she was thinking, she was just staring at Willow, waiting for her to continue. “I’m just confused. I can’t stop thinking about her, but I know I shouldn’t. She told me I shouldn’t…” 

“She told you?” Buffy asked, her voice strangely calm as she spoke for the first time. 

“Well, yeah. She was our waitress the next morning, and she cornered me in the bathroom, and she told me how sorry she was, for kissing me like that. She apologized for her friend who kind of forced us into it, and she said that had she been sober she probably wouldn’t have done it.” 

“She was drunk?!” Buffy’s voice rang incredulously in the room. “What the hell happened in Portland, Will?” 

Willow sighed. She hadn’t really wanted to tell Buffy the story, and the truth was, she wasn’t sure she understood either. The conversation in the bathroom did nothing but confuse her further. It had begun and ended so quickly that she hadn’t had time to process the words or the questions she wanted to ask. “I’m not sure I really know, Buffy.” She grimaced. “Are you mad?” Her voice sounded small again. 

The silence filled the room again as Buffy’s expression slowly changed to something else unreadable. It continued on for at least thirty seconds until Buffy’s mouth opened. “No. No, I’m not mad, Will. I’m not freaked. I don’t think I understand what happened…” Her brow furrowed, and her eyes swept over her friend again. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t accept what you’re telling me. You could be gay.” And now, a smile began to form on Buffy’s face, small and sweet, and completely accepting. “And that’s fine, Willow. I’ll never love you any less.” 

“Really?” Willow’s eyes lit up hopefully as she read her friend’s face and smile with a growing happiness in her chest. 

“Really.” Buffy nodded at her, the smile never faltering. She leaned forward, and with surprising strength, scooped her friend into a huge hug. “So. What do we do now?” 

Portland, Oregon  
August, 2000

“Where the hell have you been, T?” Faith shouted over the music. 

Tara had just arrived at the bar, chucking her coat over a chair, and sitting herself in it before Faith had started yelling. This is just what I need. Tara ducked her head against the onslaught, letting her hair cover her face to hide behind it. “Nowhere, really.”

“I’ve been calling you for weeks. I was worried. I thought…” Faith had the decency to trail off before screaming out some horrid scenario of where Tara had been. She moved in closer to the other girl, and spoke more softly in her ear. “I thought maybe your Dad found you.” 

She had been expecting it, but it didn’t stop her from wincing at the sound of it. “No.” She said, searching her brain for something else to add that she’d want Faith to know. She peaked out at Faith from behind her hair, and saw the girl’s eyes studying her intently from just a few centimeters away. “I’m fine.” She decided on, waving away the scrutiny. Faith leaned forward into her again. 

“You had me worried.” Her voice was soft, and her eyes probed Tara’s face. There were bags under her eyes, but that was pretty typical. Any trace of the abuse she’d suffered had long since faded away, but it didn’t take much for Faith to remember the bruises all over her beautiful friend’s face. Her impossibly shy, beautiful friend. She brushed Tara’s cheek with the palm of her hand, and leaned forward to press their lips together. 

Tara pulled back quickly. “I’m fine, Faith.” 

“T… why can’t we just let this happen? We both know it’s there.” Faith smiled, brushing her lips against Tara’s once more before leaning back without waiting for an answer. She reached into her pocket while Tara tried to think of something to say that would be gentle, that would convey to Faith that she simply had no interest. How could I want you when I want her? She asked herself, shaking her head slightly. And you just pushed me into her like it was a joke. From her pocket, Faith brought out a tiny plastic bag. Tara could make out the shape of four round small pills. 

“Faith, no.” She pointed at the baggie. 

“Aww, c’mon, T, you had so much fun last time. You remember that stupid girl you kissed?” Faith laughed at the memory. “How pathetic.” Her voice was laced with venom, as if she knew already that she had lost her girl to the redhead. Except, I’m not her girl. I’ve never been her girl. She hits on me, gets me drunk, feeds me drugs, tries to take me to bed, and it’s never worked. 

It’s not that Tara was ungrateful for Faith. Truly, it had been Faith who had saved her life. When she stepped off the bus from the middle of nowhere Oregon and arrived in Portland, she had had no plan. Originally, she had thought about going down to California and trying to get into school. No money, no point. How would I afford it? Who would give me a scholarship? She thought dejectedly. Very quickly, she realized she had no plan for money in Portland either, but somehow staying in state seemed to comfort her. She never wanted to go back but she wasn’t ready to give up either. After a few days of wandering, trying to find a job and a place to live, it was Faith who had given her a chance for both. They had met in a bar, similar to this one, and Faith had hit on her relentlessly until Tara, a little drunk and very sad, burst out crying. Faith had been stunned. Tara laughed now at the memory, the look on her face made me think she was going to run as far away as she could get. But something in Faith’s tough demeanor had cracked, and she took Tara in to her shitty apartment until Tara got on her feet two weeks later. 

The entire time they lived together, Faith had been respectful, as if she didn’t want to scare the girl away. But it didn’t stop her from her conquests. A few days of living with Faith, and Tara was convinced she never wanted to be with someone who used and lost sex partners as quickly and as carelessly as Faith did. Unfortunately, when Tara had found her own place, Faith’s advances had begun anew. And so they continued for months, over a year now. Faith making references to how they belonged together, and Tara feeling further and further away from that reality. She had tried to explain, tried to tell her friend, but her words were waved away as if she didn’t know what she was talking about. That alone, Faith, that alone is why you’ll never have me. Now I know that I’m better than this life. You are too, but you’ll never ever realize it. 

“She wasn’t pathetic.” Faith looked up at Tara’s words, surprise written plainly on her face. “She was beautiful.” Tara still hid behind the curtain of her hair, but the assertiveness that Faith had taught her, the shield which Faith had taught her to put up to live in this world, it served her well. Her voice was strong. 

“Don’t tell me you’re reforming for some girl who doesn’t exist anymore.” Faith snapped back at her angrily. “C’mon, T, she left two months ago and she’s not coming back. I’m right here.” Her voice was just as strong as Tara’s, but had a weirdly desperate after taste. 

Tara pushed the curtain of hair back, the look on her face an odd mixture of sympathy and disdain. “Maybe she’s not. But I deserve better than this.” She reached for Faith’s hand, wrapping it tenderly with her own. Almost as an afterthought, despite her knowing what little good it would do, she added: “So do you.” She sighed. “I have to stop, Faith, or I’m gonna die like this.” 

Faith pulled her hand away and stood abruptly, staring down at the girl. Tara’s whole body flinched at the aggression of the move, instictively shielding herself. “You think you’re too good for this life now? Why? Because of some stupid bitch? Some fucking rich tourist? C’mon, T, you were born to live this way. When you get over your fucking high and mighty act, you come see me, and I’ll show you what living really is.” Faith looked down at her, as if debating for a moment whether or not to actually hit her, and then turned on her heel and stormed out of the bar. 

A steady stream of breath pushed out from between Tara’s lips before her head sunk into her waiting hands. Elbows on the table, sitting alone in a shitty bar, she bowed her head completely before a sob raked its way from her chest and broke free. She cried, drowned out by the music in the dim light in a room filled with smoke. She cried for an hour and a half before standing and walking out. Nobody noticed. Nobody cared.


	3. Chapter 3

Portland, Oregon  
August 2002

Had it really happened? It was so long ago now that she could only remember it as being the singularly most unexplainable, important event in her life. One kiss. One kiss that was the best kiss of your entire life and it was some girl on the street! She sat in the lobby, staring blankly ahead of her, her eyes glazed and fixed on a point just past the receptionist. Her hands were folded in her lap, her legs bouncing impatiently, nervously. Not to mention the fact that it could have been the drugs that made it so amazing. It doesn’t seem that way. It doesn’t seem like it was the seratonin flooding my body that made that kiss seem so unbearably perfect. It was her eyes, the nervousness with which she regarded me, the electric shock that runs through my body when I remember it. Her mouth released the smallest sigh ever known to man. Still could be the drugs. 

In the end, it didn’t really matter whether it was the drugs or not. Not when the redhead was still the only woman Tara could think about, day or night. Not now, two years after the fact when she still woke up with the name on her tongue, when it sprang unbidden to her lips throughout the course of her day, a blessing and a curse. Willow, the girl who gave solace without truly existing. Willow, the girl who broke Tara’s heart every day simply by not being there. 

Still, in many ways, Tara owed her life to Willow. I wouldn’t have “left” Faith. I wouldn’t have met Anya. I wouldn’t have this chance. Her heart began to pound wildly in her chest; she had ignored this impending meeting by keeping herself busy with her favorite distraction… until now. Now, the mind numbing terror flooded through her body anew, now more terrifying than it had been on the streetcar as she made her way to these offices, than when she had woken up that morning. She was terrified of what they were going to say. We’ve decided your book is terrible and you should never attempt to write again. You have to give us back the money we gave you. 

“Ms. Maclay? He’ll see you now.” The receptionist forced a smile at Tara, shooting her eyes over towards the elevator as if to direct the girl. 

“Oh.” It was all she could say as she picked her body up on unsteady legs, and slowly berated herself in her mind as her limbs seemed to rebel against normal, casual movement. She reached the elevator and pressed the button, feeling very much like she was on her way to certain destituteness. She swallowed heavily, and it seemed to echo in the emptiness of the elevator as she rode to the top floor. 

The doors slid open on another receptionist behind a mahogany desk, behind her, the company name carved from a copper plate. Council Publishing Company, one of the largest publishers on the West Coast, certainly the biggest in Oregon. She always felt intimidated when she walked in here. She took a step forward out of the elevator, and promptly tripped over her own two feet. She winced, more out of pain than embarrassment, and nearly died when she heard a voice from above her. 

“Dear Lord!” The man swept the glasses off of his face, and offered Tara a hand. “Are you alright my dear?” He asked, his voice filled with genuine concern. 

Her skin flushed bright red, and immediately the curtain of her hair swept forward to cover her face as she stared down at her feet. Stupid feet! “I-I’m fine.” More wincing. Stupid mouth! 

“I should hope so.” He smiled in a fatherly way that was actually completely reassuring. “Are you Tara?” Her name off his tongue made her relax as if enveloped in a warm hug. 

Letting out a breath to steady herself, she opened her smile and looked him in the eye, “Yes, I’m Tara Maclay. I’m here to see Mr. Giles.” She searched his face trying to place the man, and realized quickly his very presence was comforting. Something about him was terribly familiar, but how she did not know. Still, he was in no way threatening, and she felt her whole body relax. 

“Wonderful. I am Rupert Giles. Follow me.”

* * *  
“Ms. Maclay…” He started after sitting her down in his too impressive office. 

“Tara, please.” She smiled at him, stilling the nervousness she felt tingling all over her body. 

“Tara, then…” he smiled back at her. “As you know, the Council has been very interested in bringing your children’s books to the market. We would be very lucky to be the ones to bring your work to the world.”

“Thank you so much for the opportunity, Mr. Giles. I think we’re making good progress. I was so pleased…” 

“Giles, please. Everyone just calls me Giles.” His face filled with an exasperated smile. 

“Of course… Giles.” It sounded silly coming from her mouth, used to the pleasantries of common courtesy. She felt comforted by the familiarity and his warm manner, but it still felt odd. Strange to be in this office of ornament and antiques. “I was surprised by your interest in my books.” 

“You shouldn’t have been. They are incredible, Tara, really, my own children will not put them down. The books are a parent’s dream,” He smiled at her again, and continued, “but your work in children’s literature is not why you’re here today.” 

Her eyes widened as she regarded him with a puzzled expression. The Council had been working with her for six months on her book, There Is Always Magic. “I’m sorry, Giles, I… I don’t understand…” 

“You are working with Mr. Wyndam-Price on your children’s novel, and that has been going extremely well. I hear nothing but good reports, everything is fine.” He smiled at her. “I do not work in children’s literature, so I’m afraid I had to sneak copies of your manuscript home to read it to my children. My apologies, but it’s been quite the hit in the office, and we wanted to hear some opinions from the target audience, if you will.” 

She waved off his concern. “Of course, Mr. Giles, I mean, Giles, I’m glad your children enjoy it. But forgive me, why am I here with you?” 

“Ms. Maclay, I had the fortune of being in attendance at an open mic at Three Friends coffeehouse. I believe you’re familiar…” 

Three Friends? The surprise registered on her face. That means he heard me read… Oh god! “Y-yes, I… I read there a few weeks ago.” 

“Yes, you did.” He smiled. “I myself have been known to enjoy a cup of tea… and performing…” 

Recognition flooded her eyes. Of course! This is the man who plays his guitar and sings. What a great voice. Anya drags me there all the time to watch him play! “I’ve seen you sing. You are wonderful.” 

This seemed to embarrass him. “Yes, well, thank you.” He pulled his glasses off his face again, and began to clean them with a white cloth he drew from his jacket pocket. Tara watched his face flush red, and couldn’t help but shoot him a grin. “I saw you read.” Tara’s face matched his in its tomato coloring. “It was wonderful. You have quite a way with words, Ms… Tara.” He smiled at her once more. “So, as you can see, although my children and I love your book, I am much more interested in your adult work.” His eyes went wide for a moment, and then he repeated, “Your other work, that is.” 

“Thank you.” The red of her blush colored her cheeks and threatened to fill her chest and neck. She focused her big blue eyes on him, embarrassed by the compliment, but politely demure. 

What a lovely creature, Giles thought. “Given the nature of your… other work, our company would have to insist on a pen name if we were to pursue publishing it.” He made a face that expressed his distaste. “You Americans are so puritanical.” He muttered. 

“I think that’s understandable.” Tara smiled, giggling to herself about Giles’ off handed comment. She found herself truly enjoying the man’s company. “Would I be working with you?” 

“Yes, if that pleases you. This is a bit of my pet project you see.” 

“Yes, Giles, that pleases me very much.” She offered him another grin, sinking back into her chair. 

 

Sunnydale, California  
August 2001

Willow looked on in horror as her date took down three shots of tequila, one after another. She raised her glass, offering a weak smile in toast, and taking a sip of her mocha. 

“You’re not going to drink anything?” Amy asked, tossing her badly dyed blond hair over her shoulder. 

“I’m not much for the drinking. Sometimes, you know, during social ocassions en masse, like a party? But for the casual hanging out, not so much.” 

“Oh.” Amy answered, her eyes running over Willow’s form as if bored at her answer. Her v-neck shirt clung to her curves nicely, the red of it actually complimenting the girl’s hair and making her green eyes sparkle. Her dark blue jeans hugged her hips, her form, though perhaps not as curvy as others, was certainly deliciously womanly. 

“You like the drinking I see. What else do you like to do?” Willow attempted to make conversation, feeling put off already. 

“Mostly I party. Oh, and I love a good cheese tasting. Usually with wine. Or brownies. Especially with a cup of coffee and a shot of Bailey’s.” Amy stepped forward, putting her hands on Willow’s hips. “I like to do other things, too.” 

Willow looked down to the girl’s hands on her hips in wonderment. Well, she’s got guts, that’s for sure. More guts than me, anyway. She placed her own hands over them, attempting to decide whether or not to push them off. Amy took this as a positive sign, and pulled Willow’s form into her own, inching her face forward until their lips met with a crushing pressure from Amy. Too much! Willow’s mind frantically screamed at her, even as her lips opened in pure shock. Amy took the opportunity to push her tongue into Willow’s mouth, greedily moving towards more than Willow intended to give. Willow found the strength in her body to push back off the hands on her hips, their lips shooting back from each other with an audible pop. Amy stared at Willow with some form of disbelief written over her features. Who the hell does this girl think she is? 

“I should have known better than to go out with a nerd.” Amy said mostly to herself. 

“Hey! You back off.” Willow answered. “We just met. You don’t know anything about me.” 

“Are you kidding? Willow Rosenberg, ‘I used to date a musician’.” Amy’s voice was cruel. “Are you even gay?” She demanded. “Have you ever been out with a woman before? Fucked a woman before?” 

Willow opened her mouth to speak and quickly shut it. She eyed the girl before her. “Yes, I’m gay. I’m here, aren’t I?” Okay, not the best comeback in the world, but at least I said something!

Amy laughed. “Oh, sure. One date with a woman and you’re gay. Very trendy. How very now. It’s unbelievable how lame you are!” 

“Amy, you’re nothing but an alcoholic!” Willow’s voice rose so most of the Bronze stopped what they were doing and paid attention. 

“Maybe, but at least I have a life, at least I have friends. What do you have?” 

“She’s got us.” Xander’s voice had never sounded better. In fact, as he and Buffy appeared from around the corner, she wanted to kiss both of them squarely on the mouth. My saviors!

“More fucking losers.” Amy grabbed her stuff and pushed past Buffy and Xander, knocking them both with her shoulders. 

“Are you okay?” Buffy asked, placing a hand on Willow’s shoulder. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Never happier to see my two best buds, though.” She shot a thankful smile in their direction. “What are you doing here?”

“Where else is there to go, Will?” Xander offered her a kind smile. “What the hell was that? She was an uberbitch… reminds me of Cordelia.” 

“Well, if she weren’t gay, I would have suggested you asking her out.” Willow answered with a grin. 

“We saw things begin to get rowdy from over there, and figured we’d make our presence known in case you wanted a way out.” Buffy said, rubbing her hand on Willow comfortingly. “I see your date went well. And I ask again – what the hell were you thinking?” 

Willow sighed. “I was thinking that it was time to stop agonizing over some girl I may never see again and try to get on with things. But the whole time I was sitting here, before she turned into a psychotic alcoholic, I couldn’t help thinking that she just wasn’t Tara.” 

“Willow, not to go all Mom on you, but how much different was that from what happened with Tara?” Xander’s voice was soft, knowing he was delivering a bit of a blow. 

“What the hell does that mean?” Willow snapped back, her eyes beginning to fill with unmistakeable Willow rage. 

“Woah, Will… relax. Best buds to the rescue, remember?” Buffy moved to stand in between her and Xander. 

“No Buff, it’s time we finally say something… From the story you’ve told me, Tara wasn’t exactly sober when she kissed you, right? How far off is this from that?” Xander asked, holding Willow’s eyes in his own. 

“It’s completely different! Kind of.” Willow moved to sit down on the unoccupied couch beside the table she had just shared with Amy. 

“Kind of?” Buffy shot Xander a look that said tread carefully.

“I know you guys mean well. I do. And I know from the outside, it doesn’t look all that different, but…” Willow pushed her hands through her hair, and looked down to the floor, her eyes shutting in concentration. “The kiss wasn’t all that different, admittedly. But the day after…” 

Portland, Oregon  
June, 2000

“I’m sorry, Willow.” Tara’s voice was soft, but her words were crystal clear. Willow couldn’t help but feel her heart lift as the girl spoke her name. 

“Sorry.” Willow parroted back. She swept her eyes over Tara’s form, the black pants with creased legs that drove the eyes up to wonderfully curvy hips, the point of her tie acting as an arrow towards the place Willow didn’t want to look but couldn’t keep her eyes away from. What mysteries laid beneath the fabric? Was her skin really as creamy and perfect as Willow imagined it would be? She followed the tie up, and appreciated the ampleness of Tara’s chest, and felt an ache she had experienced so many times before. She had always dismissed it as wishing she had larger breasts herself, but what if… what if what she really wanted was the breasts themselves? She imagined Tara’s free of constriction and under her hands and mouth, a shiver working its way up her spine. She shook her head to free herself of the images. “Sorry for what?” She asked, her curiousity peaking. 

“For kissing you.” Tara responded, looking mostly at the floor, unaware of the green eyes she longed to see feasting on her form. 

“For kissing me.” Willow repeated again, her head nodding as she thought. “Don’t be.” Her answer was nearly whispered, but firm. 

Tara finally looked up at the redhead, aware that her heart was beating out of her chest. She instinctively took a step toward the girl, this time she could do nothing but repeat what had been said. “Don’t be…” Another step towards Willow, and her mind rebelled. “No, I am sorry.” 

“Why?” Willow asked, her head tilting to the side, watching as Tara moved closer. 

Another step. “Because…” She trailed off, trying to think of the reason she had had, the reason why she regretted their kiss. “Because Faith pushed us into it, and she was rude. Because you were a total stranger, and I just violated you. Because it wasn’t consensual. Because I had no right.” Tara shook her head, stepping back away from the girl, feeling her heart break at her own indiscretions. How could I do that to her? She berated herself. 

This time, Willow took a step forward. “You’re right.” Her right foot reached out propelling her forward again. “When you kissed me, I didn’t know I wanted you to.” Her left followed suit. “And then you pulled away… and…” 

Tara’s brain tried to wrap around the words that came out of Willow’s mouth. Didn’t know she wanted me to? Wait. That means that after I kissed her, she did want me to. Wait. What? “Willow, I’m sorry. I-I wasn’t… I-I wasn’t… sober.” Great, now I’m a drug addict that forces myself on people. “It wasn’t right.” She took another step back. 

“Are you sober now?” 

“What?” 

“Are you sober now?” Willow repeated, more forcefully than the first time. 

“Yes.” Tara still didn’t get it. She didn’t get it as she felt Willow move towards her with increasing speed, and she was utterly at a loss when she felt Willow’s arms close around her, pull her close, and Willow’s lips covering hers in a kiss that knocked her back against a wall. What the hell is happening here? Tara’s brain screamed at her even as she felt herself respond passionately to a woman she’d met the night before. 

When they finally pulled apart, it was their bodies reacting to the lack of oxygen rather than an act of will. “Don’t be sorry.” Willow repeated again. 

“I-I don’t really know what to say.” Tara gathered all of the strength in her body and looked into those beautiful green eyes. “I have to go back to work…” Why did I say that? I don’t want to go back to work, I want to push you to the floor and rip your clothes off. 

Willow nodded solemnly. “You should.” She doesn’t want me. 

“Okay, then.” Tara’s brow furrowed as she stared at Willow, backing towards the door. When she felt the handle hit her back painfully, she finally turned around, pulled open the door, and walked out. God, Willow, I want you so badly. 

* * *  
Sunnydale, California  
August, 2001

Xander and Buffy shared a look before Buffy spoke. “You never told us that you kissed her.” 

Willow leveled her gaze at her two friends, neither missing the unshed tears in her eyes. “I didn’t know how to say that. It was easier to tell you and myself that I could be gay at the time then admit out loud that I actually was.” 

“But it changes the whole story Will.” Xander interjected. He and Buffy sat down on either side of Willow, and without consultation, each grabbed one of her hands. “It’s one thing if she kisses you and you feel a thing, right?” He searches Willow’s face as Buffy nods behind her. “It’s another thing if she kisses you and when you meet again you kiss her, ‘cuz then we’re past just thing territory and into y’know, feelings stuff.” 

“There’s a difference between an attraction and real feelings. When you act on attraction, all you’re risking is that moment. When you act on feelings, you’re kinda risking yourself.” Buffy nodded as if acting on some kind of supreme authority. 

Willow eyed Buffy up and down and laughed a bit, her face lighting up enough to remove the gloom. “Sage Buffy.” As she looked at both her friends, she felt comforted. A long standing tension seemed to dissolve from her shoulders and she stood up pulling them both behind her. “We might as well have some fun tonight. Let’s dance.” 

“Boogeying at the Bronze.” Xander grinned and followed the redhead. 

“It’s what we do best.” Buffy muttered to herself, trailing behind and grinning.


	4. Chapter 4

Portland, Oregon  
February, 2007

Tara smiled politely over the rim of her wine glass, tilting it back over her full lips. The liquid warmed her whole body and loosened the ever present tension in her shoulders. She felt slightly awkward in the clothes Anya had picked out for her, the shirt too revealing, the pants just too tight on her curves, she felt open for display. Not that my date seems to notice, she thought to herself with a bit of a smile, watching the woman’s eyes as they seemed to continually sweep her face looking for signs of merriment or displeasure. She’s so nervous. Tara couldn’t hold back a full blown grin at her date, who instantly saw the expression. Her leg began shaking under the table nervously, even as she continued to babble on. “I didn’t really think you would go out with me. I mean, you’ve turned down everyone else at work who’s asked you, and I thought… well, you’re so unbelievably beautiful, I just…” 

Tara sighed. It was true, she went to the same coffeeshop three times a week, and every employee there must have asked her out. Twice. She had grown so used to it that it was mostly routine of her day. And then Vi started working there a few weeks before, and she had instantly liked the younger woman. She was nervous, watching customers intently as they ordered and still not getting their order quite right. When she had seemed to take the same interest in Tara that all the others did, Tara seriously debated whether or not she could be attracted to her. It was not the first time she’d been attracted to a woman that wasn’t Willow in the past seven years, hell, it wasn’t even the first date she’d been on. But it was the first time she’d been hopeful beforehand. 

Tara zoned back into the words that were coming from Vi’s mouth, and her cheeks instantly reddened, shooting down her neck and flushing her chest as well. She’s nice. Really young. But she’s very sweet. Oh Anya, why did I let you talk me into this? “Thank you.” She said, interrupting the babblefest, her eyes cast down to the hem of her shirt, where she picked off some invisible lint to avoid having to look the girl in the eye. 

“Oh, no need to thank me.” Vi smiled. “Thank you.” 

If we just keep thanking each other for nothing, this is never going to go anywhere. “So tell me about yourself then.” Tara smiled at the girl reassuringly as she went white as a ghost. 

“About me?” Vi looked both scared and perplexed. “Why would you want to know about me?” 

Tara shook her head, her brow furrowing in confusion. “Well, that is what people do, isn’t it? It’s been awhile since I’ve been out on a date, but I was sure there was talking about ourselves involved.” She smiled, this time hoping to encourage.

“But you’re the interesting one! You write, right? That’s what Rona said. Rona, she works with me…” 

Tara did know Rona, as they had shared a laugh every few mornings when Tara had come in for her usual drink. She was surprised to find out anyone actually knew who she was, though in this town, she supposed she shouldn’t be. “I do. I write children’s books.” And erotic poetry. Tara hid a giggle behind a wide smile. But if I tell you that right now, you may explode. “And you work at Stumptown.” 

“Yeah, I do.” Vi’s eyes stared up at Tara in total wonder, her statement an afterthought. 

When Vi didn’t continue, Tara tried to hide her disappointment. The conversation continued, mostly with Vi gazing up in wonder at her dinner companion, and Tara feeling very much like a zoo exhibit. When their dinners were finally cleared, the waiter approached with the typical offer of coffee and dessert. They politely declined, and stood to head out the door. 

As they neared the end of the block walking towards Tara’s car, Vi broke the silence. “I had a really, really great time tonight, Tara. I was wondering if you’d like to go out with me on Friday?” 

Tara found herself looking up into Vi’s expectant smile, and felt her heart break at the ever so hopeful look on the woman’s face. I thought I could do this, but I can’t. I’m sorry, Vi, looking at you makes my heart ache for someone else. You like me so much, and it’s very flattering, but you’re just not what I want. Oh well, be as polite as possible, make her feel good, and then get the hell out. 

Sunnydale, California  
August 2002

Ira Rosenberg had always known his daughter was different. From the moment she was born, holding her in his arms, she looked magnificentally small. And yet, as he moved his hand to check her fingers and toes, as he touched his hand to her face for the first time, he could feel something in her reach out to him. It was almost ghostly, his experience, the feel of her essence reaching out to touch him in that room that smelled of medicine and science and clean. 

He felt the same way when he heard her voice in his mind when she was six and broke her arm several blocks away from home. He had been at his office, reading an article of interest when he heard her, clear as day, call out for him. He could still remember the panic in her voice, the first and last time he remembered her truly needing him. He had convinced himself that was hearing things until his wife called him a few hours later. The sitter had called her, she explained, and then she had met them at the hospital. Willow was fine, and she was getting some work done in the waiting room. He had rolled his eyes at his wife’s bored tone. 

And yet he had always known he was no better than her, with her clinical detachment. He loved his wife, she was a brilliant woman, but she was not particularly maternal. And yet, what was he? Paternal. No, no better. He should have rushed to her the moment he knew he was needed. Instead he had sat, reading in his office, convincing himself that Willow was fine. And so he had done for most of her childhood, truly believing that such an intelligent, capable child had no need for his guidance. How much he had missed he was only painfully aware of now. 

Now, as he watched Willow pace back and forth in front of him, he realized with a stunning clarity that this is exactly what she had come to tell him. She was different. Finally, she turned on her heel and looked at him. “Dad.” She paused, searching his face for a reaction he had yet to form. She took a sigh, and began to pace again. Ira glanced at his watch out of habit, regretting it instantly when he saw his daughter sigh, screwing her eyes closed. 

“Bren…” he began, sinking easily into habit again. 

“Dad, I have something to tell you, and it’s hard. It’s hard for me to tell you, because, well, you’re my father, and…” She shook her head, as if to clear it, and took a deep breath that cleansed her. She opened her eyes. “I’m gay.” 

For a moment, it felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. His expression did not break, merely staying on her without seeing her. He inhaled sharply through his nose, a whirlwind of reactions coursing through his brain. What does this mean for you, my dear daughter? What will this world do to you? And finally, the one he voiced. “Are you happy, Willow?” 

It surprised her how strong his voice was, how tender, how filled with emotion. It was the first time in her life Willow ever truly felt the depth of her father’s love. “I’m happy, yes.” She smiled, feeling the truth in her words. 

“Then what else is there to say?” There was silence between them as they gazed at each other, their eyes meeting. The same smile formed on both their lips, a product of genetics. 

Finally, Willow broke the silence. “Can you help me tell Mom?” 

Ira’s eyes grew wide, before he began to laugh. “There is no power on this Earth great enough to help you tell your Mother, Willow.” 

Willow laughed at him, smiling wide, her tongue pushing out from between her teeth in pure delight. 

Portland, Oregon  
August, 2001

Tara stared at her reflection in the glass window, looking carefully at her outfit. She shot a dejected look at herself, feeling silly. Am I dressed right? How do you dress right for this kind of occasion? She sighed, not knowing the answer. Hesitantly, she pushed open the door of the old house, now converted to a coffee shop and glanced around. Not seeing anyone close to whom she was supposed to be meeting, she looked for someone to direct her. Finally, she flagged down a waitress’ attention. “H-hi. I-I’m supposed to b-be meeting someone.” She frowned at her stumbling. 

“Oh!” The waitress brought her hand to her forehead in a salute. “Right this way…” She began walking back out the door that Tara had entered from, and lead her to an outdoor sitting area. There, sitting off in a corner was a pretty woman with blond hair. The waitress pointed at her. “Good luck.” She whispered before scurrying back in the other direction. 

During Tara’s walk towards her, she felt the woman’s eyes appraising her. “Well, you’re shy, aren’t you?” Anya called when Tara was ten feet away, her head slightly bowed. 

“I guess I am.” Tara laughed, feeling relaxed by the honesty. 

“So, why are you moving?” Anya asked, still eyeing Tara up and down. 

“Oh, well, my apartment is the first place I moved into when I got here, and I guess I’m looking for something… nicer?” She took a seat on the bench opposite Anya. 

“What’s your name?” She leaned forward to pick up a cup of coffee sitting in front of her. 

“Tara Maclay.” She answered, her fingers pulling at the napkin on the table in front of her. 

“Good name. You seem very honest.” Anya reached over and picked up Tara’s hand, examining her skin in the light. “You have soft skin and clean hands.” Anya seemed to check off some kind of list in her mind. “Do you shower regularly? Personal hygeine is a must.” 

Tara nodded, somewhat bewildered by this strange creature. “I’m very neat.” 

“Well, that answers my next question.” Another check. “Do you steal?” 

“No.” Check. 

“Do you have loud friends and late parties?” 

“No.” Half-check. 

“Do you mind if I do?” 

“With some warning?” Anya nodded goodnaturedly. “No, not really.” Check.   
“Well, you’ll do. My name is Anya Jenkins. I would love for you to be my new roommate.” The girl smiled, the expression covering most of her face. 

Tara nodded, despite herself. “When can I see the apartment?” 

“Oh. Well, when you move in, of course. Don’t worry, you’ll love it.” Anya continued to smile at her. “So, do you have a lot of sex? Is your shy demeanor really just a ploy to get people into bed with you? Because it’s very convincing.” Tara stared at Anya, not quite knowing what to say. She found herself enjoying the strange girl’s presence. And she found herself agreeing despite herself when Anya looked at her straight in the eyes and said “I think we’re going to be best friends!”


	5. Chapter 5

Portland, Oregon  
September 2008

Tara stood, waiting to be called “on stage” with a nervousness she couldn’t quite shake. She had become used to readings, mostly thanks to Anya dragging her to open mic after open mic. For years, Anya had patiently listened as Tara read her work again and again, a different inflection or tone used each time. She served as critic, support system, and general pain in the ass. Tara smiled. Thinking about Anya and all the work it took to make it here, to this moment, it calmed her down. Now, if only she didn’t know about Willow… 

Willow felt her heart leap out of her chest and shoot back in, thumping loudly in the midst of the crowd. Her face was beet red, her breathing coming in short gasps, she stared unable to move her eyes away from her. Tara Maclay. How many times had she considered the woman’s last name? Too many to count. Simple, American names: Tara Simpson. Tara Jones. Tara Smith. Tara Johnson. Irish? Tara Riley. Tara Connor. Tara Duffy. Italian. Tara Lombardi. Tara Espisito… none of them had ever sounded right to her ear. Tara Maclay, of course. How perfect, how simple. How beautiful. The picture outside had done her no justice. Even after eight years, not one detail of her face had left Willow’s mind, she could see the changes, the newer laugh lines, the tired look around the eyes that Willow knew was mirrored in her own. And yet still, there she was, the woman who she had been searching for with her heart everyday for eight years. 

Her voice sounded over the crowd, but spoke directly to the heart of her, to the Willow who existed nowhere else but for Tara, with Tara. She looked so confident, so gorgeous, her blue eyes shimmering in the light, dancing around in their mischeviousness. Her words flowed from her, cocooning the audience in their warm, sensual glow. She tried to pay attention, tried to hear. So much love in her voice, as she read to the crowd. Each one of them could have been her lover, the one she spoke to in such soft tones. Willow watched her read, poem after poem, imagining how many moments she had missed with this beautiful creature. 

Finally, there was a lull, a collective whimper as the goddess stopped speaking, letting her eyes search the crowd. Who is she looking for? Willow’s mind demanded, aching with the idea of someone else in the crowd the poet was speaking of. She searched the faces of the audience, a game of hide and seek as they caught her eye and dropped their eyes to their laps blushing. Finally, her eyes seemed to stop at Willow’s, and even with the distance, and the lights shining on her face, a spark of recognition seemed to float across her face. Her blue eyes widened, glimpsing those green that she had seen time and again in her dreams. They stared so long that the audience began to turn in their seats, trying to find the face they saw her staring at. She shook her head, ripping her eyes away from the redheaded woman, and laughed softly, drawing the attention of the crowd back to her. 

“I’m going to read my final poem for the night, but first I’d like to tell you a little about how it came to be. When I was younger and wild…” She trailed off as the audience began to titter. She waited for them to settle again. “I met this girl. I knew her for only twelve hours, and she changed my whole life. Everything I write is in some way or another about her. I’ve never seen her face to face again, but I’ve always wanted to. What I remember most about her is the way she smelled…” For a moment, Tara lost herself to a memory. “This is the poem I wrote for her.” She sought out Willow’s eyes in the audience once more. “I’ve never read it for any audience before.” With her eyes locked on Willow’s, she began to speak.

if i close my eyes i can still smell you  
so sweet, nectarines and honey  
it lingered on my skin for weeks

alone in my room just yesterday  
i called you to mind again  
everyday and a thousand times before

your form pressed against me  
now naked in our privacy  
your hips buck against my intrusion

i am tension, the high wire  
carefully balancing   
need and desire

you are a blur in my fantasy  
frantic energy like that morning  
you kissed me against bathroom tile

all I have now in need and desire is  
the ghost of you, nectarine and honey  
on my tongue when i come

Portland, Oregon  
September 2006

Anya grabbed a hold of Tara and pulled her towards the door of the bar. “You’re never going to have sex if you don’t even meet lesbians!” Anya shouted, before turning to face the bouncer with an ID in her hands. The woman leered forward towards her, clearly taking the chance to look down Anya’s shirt. Her eyes took a slow trip back up from her breasts to rest on her lips. “I’m a lesbian.” 

Anya rolled her eyes. “Of course you are.” She shot a beaming smile back towards Tara who returned the look with a shake of the head and huge eyes. “So’s she.” Anya pointed, deliberately avoiding the petrified look in her friend’s eye. 

“Nice to meet you, honey.” The bouncer eyed Tara up and down as well. “You are one hell of a woman.” 

“Thank you.” She answered softly, the corners of her lips turning up into the slightest hint of a smile. She pushed her ID into the bouncer’s waiting hands. 

“Don’t be nervous. You’ll knock ‘em dead.” The woman offered Tara a wink, and opened her hand to usher them both inside. Anya grinned, and Tara offered the woman a true smile before ducking into the bar. 

* * *  
Tara felt her mouth drop open in wonder as she stared at the small stage from her table with Anya. Performing karaoke to a Disturbed song were two young women, obviously not much past twenty-one if at all, Tara thought, allowing it to bring the smirk to her lips. Anya was beside herself in the next seat, truly tickled by the performance. “Lesbian karaoke is amazing.” 

“Well, it’s certainly different.” Tara replied, unable to rip her eyes away from the women. As the song ended, and the girls fell over laughing, Tara allowed her eyes to wander over the bar. The bartender was laughing, her head thrown back, obviously truly enjoying whatever had just been said by a brunette in tight jeans and a white tank top. 

The brunette seemed to realize the performance was over a few seconds after Tara caught sight of her. She climbed onto the stage, stealing the microphone back from the girls, and casting a look out at the audience. “Alright you drunkards…” At the sound of the voice, Tara’s eyes flew to the woman’s face as she flashed a sexy smile out at the crowd. “Next we have Kate and Darla performing Kid Rock and Sheryl Crow’s Picture.” Faith. 

Faith stood on stage, a hand buried in her pocket, the other with the microphone extended to two blushing blond women headed towards her. Tara’s eyes took in her face, which looked the same as it had six years before. Faith was beautiful. She slowly let her eyes travel the other girl’s form. Not too thin, anymore. Faith rocked back and forth on her feet, as the first woman reached out to grab the mic. She looks… sort of nervous. Tara laughed at the idea, seeing so many and so few changes in her old friend. Faith stepped off the stage as the song began, heading back towards the bar. Tara felt herself stand and begin to move towards her without thought. 

“Hi.” The word was out of her mouth before she could even begin to berate herself for its absurdity. 

Faith stopped and a beat passed before she turned towards the voice. “Tara.” She said the name mostly to herself before she let her eyes take the other girl in. She swallowed. “Good to see ya, T.” 

“It’s good to see you, Faith.” Her voice was soft, her hand reaching out to touch the other girl’s wrist. Her fingers dropped around her arm, closing around the skin. “How are you?”

Faith stared at the touch before raising her eyes. “Good.” She took a deep breath. “Better.” 

“Good.” Tara’s voice filled with genuine warmth before she smiled at the girl. “That’s really good.” 

Faith nodded. “It is good.” 

“How long have you been working here?” 

Tara felt Faith start to relax, and she let her hold on the other girl begin to slip. Faith caught her hand with her own, and laced their fingers together for a moment before squeezing her hand gently and dropping away. “A year or so.” She pointed at the bartender with a smile. “My partner.” 

“That’s great.” Tara gave the girl a half grin. “That’s really, really great.” 

“It is.” Faith smiled back at Tara, letting the warmth of the girl wash over her. “I’m…”  
She forced a sigh out, looking away for a moment as her features formed into a wince. In an instant it was gone, replaced with a gaze straight back at her old friend. “I’m sorry. I didn’t…” She trailed off again. “Things changed after… after you left.”

Tara nodded. “I’m glad.” 

From behind the bar, the bartender’s voice sounded. “Faith?” She called, her eyes taking in the two women a little suspiciously. 

“I should go. But you should come back. Maybe we can… talk some more.” Faith’s voice betrayed the fear that she felt. 

“I will.” Tara smiled. “Good to see you.” She grabbed Faith’s hand and squeezed it again. “Go tell your girl not to worry about me.” 

Faith flashed her a grin before nodding and pushing herself off in the direction of the bar, a private smile flashing in the direction of her lover as she scurried off to calm her doubts. 

Sunnydale, California  
August 2003 

“Open mine!” Dawn jumped about excitedly, her party hat falling back behind her head. 

Willow grinned as she watched Dawn’s excitement, and turned to look at Xander. “What do you say? Just for my birthday, a little Snoopy dance?” 

“Aww, c’mon, Will, I don’t want to ruin the Christmas magic.” Xander grinned knowingly, and ruffled Willow’s hair with his hand. 

“Alright, alright, fine. But my present had better be excellent.” She answered him, grabbing the small wrapped package from Dawn. She began to pull the paper apart, quickly realizing that Dawn’s idea of wrapping also included covering every spare inch of paper in tape. 

“I was at the mall, and I saw this, and I thought, perfect for Willow!” Dawn grinned, moving to sit down next to the redhead. “Open it!” She demanded. 

“I’m trying, Dawnie, but you certainly don’t make it easy.” She began a new tactic of pulling with all of her might. 

“Demon wrapper Dawn strikes again!” Buffy called as she came in from the kitchen carrying sodas and popcorn. 

“Finally…” Willow muttered to herself as she got the item within the packaging. She pulled out a small hardcover book, the cover immediately drawing her eye as her quick mind made work of the black and white photograph of a woman’s torso. Her green eyes opened wide in surprise as she looked up at Dawn. “Dawn, I…” 

Buffy and Xander leaned forward to get a glimpse of the gift, as Dawn began to explain. “It’s not what you think!” Buffy and Xander followed Willow’s example in shooting an open mouthed look at Dawn, struggling for words. “Really! Well, not really, it’s this book of poetry, and I remember that Willow really liked her feminist poetry class, and this new book came out by this new author, and I thought maybe she’d like it! Plus, lesbian!” She flipped over the book to reveal the author’s bio on the back. 

“She lives in Portland…” Willow said softly to herself, missing the look that Xander and Buffy exchanged. “Well, thank you Dawnie.” She smiled, looking back up at the girl. “Really, it’s very thoughtful, thank you so much.” 

Dawn grinned, swelling her chest out and standing up to her full height. “And, ooo, it fits with Xander’s present!” Willow and Buffy both shot a withering look at Xander, and he raised up his hands for protection. 

“It’s not like that, really!” He offered before disappearing into the dining room and bringing out a beautifully carved bookcase. “See? Book fits in book case.” He and Dawn looked quite proud of themselves as Willow stood with tears in her eyes. “Xander, it’s beautiful!” 

“Really beautiful, Xand.” Buffy smiled, glancing at the chest he had made for her earlier that year.

“It will fit in your room under your window, y’know, the one you wanted something for? And you can put plants on top of it, so they’ll get light. And each of our initials are carved into the trimmings…” He began to point them out as Willow ran her hand along the wood. 

“Thank you so much. I love you guys!” 

She pulled Dawn and Xander into hug before Buffy pushed her way in on the other side, smiling as she said “Group hug.”

“Happy birthday, Willow.” Dawn chirped happily, her head trapped in the crook of Xander’s arm. Buffy and Xander followed suit in repeating Dawn. 

“This is the best birthday ever.” Willow whispered, and the hug got tighter.


	6. Chapter 6

Sunnydale, California  
February 2006

Willow awoke calmly, despite the regret she felt at leaving the cocoon of her bed. Sitting up slowly in her bed, she slowly fought off the last remnants of sleep and allowed her eyes to open. She smiled at the walls, a warm brown, allowed her right hand to run the length of the bed, the beautiful mahogany wood warm beneath her hand. The sheets beneath her were almost silky in their softness. A general feeling of peace pervaded her senses, and she inhaled deeply, the smell of cedar filled the air. She brought her legs over the side of the bed and stood, stretching her arms over her head. Unrelenting calm filled her limbs as she stretched out the sleep. She caught sight of herself in the mirror and was amazed to note the laugh lines on her face, the green lingerie that matched the color of her eyes. She noted with some sense of surprise that she looked sexy, sexy carved from comfort and ease and… is that happiness? She drew a deep breath into her lungs, testing it. Contentment. So that’s what it feels like… 

She felt two strong arms wrapping around her waist, but despite the surprise, she felt safe. So right, these arms that grabbed her with a well tested knowledge. They were firm, and she was drawn back into softness unparalleled. A whimper escaped her mouth as she realized there were bare breasts against her back. She felt the nipples through the flimsy material of her night clothes. She closed her eyes and pushed back into the warmth. 

Whispers filled her ear, hot breath trailing just moments behind them, and her knees nearly gave out. “You are enchanting in the morning, my love.” She allowed herself to be turned in the arms, and met sapphire blue with emerald greens. Before she could register what was happening, lips were pressed to hers in a flimsy contact, not nearly close to what she wanted. As they began to pull away, she reached forward and pulled her lover close, pushing their lips together, her tongue seeking and gaining entrance into the other woman’s mouth. Their tongues melded together, and she felt herself float away from her body, feeling whole, wholly connected to this beauty. As they pulled away, a melodic laugh filled her ears. “Well, every part of you except your morning breath is enchanting.” A kiss followed the words at the nape of her neck, a tongue lathering attention to her pulse point and then finally lips wrapped around her earlobe and sucked with a gentle pressure she felt directly on her clit. She moaned. “Even with morning breath, you’re irresistable. How do you do that?” 

Her lover’s impish grin was an arrow through her heart, and tears welled up in her eyes as she mouthed more than spoke the woman’s name. “Tara.” There was such reverence in her voice it almost sounded like a sob, a moment of silence passed between them and they stared at each other. 

Tara cocked her head and regarded her love with quizzical eyes. “Baby, you haven’t said my name like that in a long time.” 

“When was the last time?” She asked, sounding miles away. 

“When you married me.” Tara leaned forward and pressed their lips together again, her hand reaching up and settling on Willow’s cheek. “Are you okay, love?” She looked at Willow with a worried expression. “You’re not sick, are you?” 

“Not sick.” Willow shook her head, her usually busy mind still in Tara’s arms. She grasped at the feelings that flooded her mind, adoration, love, respect. There were no words beautiful enough, no words big enough, no words grand enough to describe how deeply to her core she worshipped this woman. “Not totally right either.” 

“You’re scaring me, Will, what are you thinking over there?” Tara took Willow’s hand and pulled them back onto the bed. They laid facing each other, and Willow’s eyes filled with tears as they trailed up Tara’s form. Her hands grazed over the woman’s hips, dragged slowly up the sides of her stomach, before resting on Tara’s cheek the way Tara’s hand had on hers moments before. 

“I love you.” She stared unblinking into Tara’s eyes. “I look at you and all I can think is…” She trailed off, cursing her vocabulary for not having the perfect words to explain. 

“Will. You think what, baby?” Willow still refused to answer, dropping her eyes to Tara’s hand still linked in hers and the tears that had been unshed up to this moment began to flow openly out of her eyes. She shook her head against Tara’s questions, still unsure of what to say. Tara followed Willow’s eyes, and finally found herself smiling. 

“Willow, my love, don’t cry because we love each other. Don’t cry because you love me too much!” Tara laughed that beautiful laugh again, and Willow’s heart broke with how full it was. “Don’t you see, baby? Don’t you see that I know how you feel because I feel the same way? I’m yours. You’re mine. Distance means nothing to us. Time means nothing to us. I’ll be yours forver. You’ll be mine forever. Nothing can take this away from us because we’ll always be waiting for each other.” 

“You’ll always find me?” Willow’s voice was so small, and she choked back yet another sob. 

“I will always find you, baby.” Tara smiled. “Lighten up, love. Don’t cry for our happiness, revel in it. And when it feels like too much, let it spill out in laughter.” She grasped Willow’s hand tighter. “And if I get lost, my Willow?” 

“Then I’ll find you.” Willow answered, finally looking up at her love. 

“Please do. I love you here and now. I loved you my entire life, and I’ll love you in the afterlife or in the next all over again. You belong to me. So it’s up to us to find each other, okay?” 

“Okay.” Tara smiled and held up their hands to show the redhead. “See?” She pointed at the ring on her hand and then the one on Willow’s. “Our rings are just a symbol, my love, of the eternity we’ve promised to each other.” They didn’t speak again as their lips crushed down on each other, leaving little space for breathing, and no space for getting useless words out. Who needs words when everything important has already been said? 

* * *

When Willow actually woke up alone in her bed, all she could remember from her dream was a snippet… thankfully, it was the most important part. With Tara’s question in her mind, as well as her answer, she flipped open her laptop and got to work. It was time. It was time to do what her heart had been telling her to do. 

. “And if I get lost, my Willow?” 

“Then I’ll find you.” 

“Please do.”

 

Sunnydale, California  
August, 2004

Tara wandered down the main strip of the town, her eyes shooting back and forth between all of the shops and people wandering. She ducked out of the way of the crowds, and stood back ducked into the doorway of one of the many shops. People wandered by, and she was amazed how many people there were in Sunnydale, considering how little she had ever heard about it. Portland gets all kinds of crazy Californian refugees, and yet none that she’d ever met spoke of Sunnydale. Whatever that was about, she liked the town, with its Spanish influenced architecture and its general bustle lacking hustle for the most part. 

Which is why she had backed into this corner, her moleskin in hand as she stared out into the street and people hurrying by. She smiled at the sight of a man with brown shaggy hair, a red checkered shirt and jeans swing an arm companionably around the petite blond beside him dressed fashionably in lighter jeans, a white shirt, and a leather jacket. They smiled at each other, and she touched his arm in a familiar way. They continued to talk as they walked past her and Tara imagined who they were and what their relationship was. It didn’t seem romantic in nature, not from the way his head turned as if looking for someone else, or the way they playfully punched each other in the arm. There was something about them that she couldn’t place, something that drew her eyes to them even as they moved out of her sight range, drawing her a few steps forward from her hiding place and watching as they disappeared into a coffee shop down the street. 

She closed her eyes, and settled back into the recessed area, leaning her back against the brick wall behind her. She tried to fight it, but the dream she had had the night before came back to her with stunning clarity. The dream of married life, of a soul mate, of the girl who had kissed her so many years ago. It’s probably just because I’m in California. Why else would Willow have popped into my mind? She sighed. Because Willow is always on your mind. Well, it’s not like this is where she’s from. You don’t know anything about her! Only that her name is Willow and she’s from California. This is so stupid, four years later and you still can’t forget one girl. Just because she saved your life doesn’t mean she’s the one. It just felt that way. She opened her eyes, forcing the thoughts away. She spied an empty bench across the street and decided to sit down and try to write something. New town, new work. That’s the rule. She opened her notebook and began to sketch out impressions of this place, of the people she had seen, and of worlds she created for them. 

* * *

She hadn’t mean to work so long that she caught sight of the friends as they left the coffee shop, but she had. She glanced up when the sound of their familiar voices had passed her, and dropped her notebook. A head full of red hair the color of Willow’s traipsed just ahead of the man and woman she’d taken note of before. She refused to allow herself to look again, feeling her breath begin to quicken, her pulse begin to race. Could it be? No, it obviously couldn’t be. Don’t do this to yourself, Maclay. Don’t pretend it’s her again just to find someone else’s face. It’s gone far enough. You’re never going to find her again. Angry with herself, she stood and walked off in the other direction, back towards her hotel, not allowing herself a glance back. 

If she had, she would have seen one Willow Rosenberg stop dead in her tracks and flash a look back towards when Tara had just been sitting, nearly knocking Buffy and Xander over by stopping dead in front of them. “Whatcha lookin’ at Willster?” Buffy asked, her eyes following her friends and finding empty space. 

“I’m not sure, I thought I saw someone…” Willow looked back towards the empty bench before shaking her head. “It was nothing.” She flashed her friends a reassuring smile and slid her arms between theirs, and kept walking. Wishful thinking. It couldn’t be that easy that she would just appear in Sunnydale. Not with my luck. Willow sighed, pushing thoughts of Tara out of her head for as long as she could. 

* * *

“Where have you been? I’ve been trying to call you guys all day!” Dawn stood in the hallway as the front door opened, talking to them before they could see here. 

“Where’s the fire?” Xander asked, seeing Dawn in full resolve mode, something she had clearly picked up from Willow over the years. 

“I was calling to tell Willow that the poet she likes, y’know, the book I bought her for her birthday? Is reading tonight at the Espresso Pump. I wanted to go with you, but now it’s too late!”   
Buffy shot Willow a look before settling her eyes back on Dawn. “I’m not sure I would have wanted you going to that reading anyway, Dawnie. Don’t you think you’re a little young for erotic poetry?” 

Dawn rolled her eyes as she threw her arms into the sky. “Don’t you think there are worse things I could be interested, Buffy? I could be taking drugs, or staying out late, or getting pregnant…” 

“She’s got a point there, Buff.” Willow smiled at the girl. “I’m sorry, Dawnie, I would have loved to go, but I have work to do anyway, and we” she gestured to Buffy and Xander, “had made plans for the day already. Y’know, kind of, let’s hang out before we forget what each other looks like kind of plans.” 

Dawn snorted. “All you three do is spend time together! There’s talk of polyamory all over the neighborhood!” 

“I guess that makes me the stud.” Xander said, grinning. He lost his smile when Buffy punched him in the arm. “You’re really stronger than you think you are, Buffy.” He rubbed his arm as he sat down, knowing a bruise was forming. 

“That’s not fair, Dawn. We’ve all been busy working and doing grown up stuff, there’s been no time for mocha goodness and gossip.” Buffy sounded exasperated. 

“Gossip about what? You three don’t have anything going on to gossip about!” Dawn sighed. “Well, this just sucks.” 

“I’m sorry, Dawnie, I’ll make it up to you. Next time she comes here, we’ll go, okay?” Willow said with a hopeful smile, stepping forward to wrap Dawn in a hug. 

* * *

Tara smiled at the assorted group of fans sitting in the audience. “I would like to do something I almost never do.” She made eye contact with a few of the people in the front, noting with amusement her book in their hands. “I’d like to read something I wrote today. Would you mind that?” The audience cheered their consent. “Excellent. This is called ‘After The Discovery of Us’”. 

after the discovery, my love,  
swimming in the remnants of   
our wet and sweat on the sheets  
you’ll turn to me, your eyes  
the green of grass, your smile   
innocent and wide in the   
face of the things we said,  
forgotten is the way  
you’ve taken my body  
christening it yours in   
saliva,  
blood,  
sweat,  
and arousal,  
signing your name in broad strokes  
with the ink of your sex  
after the discovery of us, my love,  
you will turn to me with your smile   
in your particular shade of green  
and with flesh  
and bones   
and blood  
make us everything we should have been  
ah, what could have been… 

Sunnydale, California  
September, 2004

Willow reread the email again, her eyes scanning every line so as not to miss a word. Her mind reeled as she tried to make sense of what was actually being said. Job offer. Web design. Portland, Oregon. She stood up from her computer, and flopped her body back down on her bed staring at the ceiling. Maybe she’ll be there. Maybe I can find her. She groaned, tired of the same riff of mental thought that had been in her brain for four years. “She won’t be there! You’re not gonna find her, so just get over it already!” She screamed at herself. 

“Willow, are you okay?” Buffy’s voice was muffled behind the door. 

“I’m fine!” She called through the door, praying Buffy would accept that and go away. 

“Can I come in?” She sighed, chucking her pillow at the door. Of course it can’t be that easy. 

“Sure.” Willow answered, and she kept her eyes trained above as the door opened. She felt the bed shift as Buffy sat down. 

“What’s going on?” 

Willow turned her eyes to look at her friend, who was staring back at her with a mixture of amusement and worry. “I just got a job offer.” 

“That’s great. What’s the job?” Buffy settled herself back on the bed, crossing her legs in front of her. 

“It’s web design. It’s an increase in salary. It would be a move, though, and I don’t know, I just… I don’t think I’m ready to leave Sunnydale.” 

Buffy’s face betrayed the emotions that played across her face. Sure, she didn’t want Willow to move away, but if this would advance her career... “Why don’t you think you’re ready to leave?” 

“Life is good here. I have you, and Dawn, and Xander, and I love being around you guys. You keep me sane.” Willow smiled, reaching her hands palm up towards Buffy. Without second thought, Buffy slid her hands on top of Willow’s, palms down. It was something they did whenever they started to have a serious conversation, a way of comfort, something about sharing energies that Willow had read years ago and had just become habit. 

“How far away are we talking, Will? Can’t we still be friends if you move away?” Buffy’s tone was teasing, but her intention was serious. 

“Of course! We’ll always be friends. That’s not even a question.” Willow started to pull away, but something in Buffy’s eyes stopped her. “The job’s in Portland.” 

“Oh.” Buffy let her eyes roam over her friend’s face. “Maybe that would be a good thing, Will, maybe… you could find her.” Her last words were spoken softly. 

“She’s probably not even there, anymore. And why would I move there? For a woman I met once? I feel so psychotic for even thinking about her the way I do.” 

Buffy shrugged. “Willow, I can’t lie to you and tell you that you’ve having a typical experience. But why is that important? You found a girl that you really liked, and no one has measured up since. Now you have a chance to do and see if you can find that woman and make something happen. Why wouldn’t you take it?” 

Willow sat for a moment in silence, staring at her friend and wondering at how she ever got such amazing friends. They were incredibly supportive, even with how truly crazy she was. “I’m not ready to go there and never be able to find her.” Willow’s voice was small. “If I knew for sure she was there…” She trailed off, looking past Buffy, searching for words. “I just think… if it’s supposed to happen, then it will. Does that make sense?” 

Buffy noded. “It does. I just don’t want to see you sabotage a chance for happiness.” 

“And if I knew that’s what I was missing out on, I’d go in a heartbeat. But I don’t know that, and right now… I’d rather stay here with you. Where I know I’m loved.” Willow sighed. “I could have gone to college anywhere, right?” Again, Buffy nodded. “And I chose to stay here.” 

“Right, you did, which is what I’m talk…” 

“Buffy, I stayed because I knew what was important to me. You. Xander. Dawn. This family, our family. I stayed because I knew this is where I needed to be then. And nothing about that has changed. At least not yet. Maybe someday. Maybe never. I’m okay with where I am now. Really, if you think about it, I’m blessed.” Willow smiled at Buffy. “I’ve got more love in my life than most people ever get.” 

“Alright, Will, but you have to promise me… promise me that if the chance ever comes for happiness, that you’re going to take it. I mean it. I want you to be happy.” 

“I am.” Willow smiled, even as she felt her heart ache from loneliness and her brain ache from her lie. She was happy, if just a little bit sad for a chance she was never sure she’d have.


	7. Chapter 7

Sunnydale, California  
June, 2009

She almost let out a moan as she felt warm arms encircle her around her waist. Leaning back into soft comfort, she sighed, rubbing her eyes against the computer screen ache. Willow’s hands reached up and began rubbing her temples as she softly whispered, “Poor baby.”

Tara smiled, grabbing Willow’s hands and pulling her arms around her neck, nuzzling into the cheek that fell to touch hers. “Hi sweetie.” 

“Hi.” The answer was short, breathy. They relaxed into each other, letting the moments tick by with no concern for time or sound or anything else at all really. Tara felt her eyes grow heavy, the lids closing against her will. She was certain she would be asleep completely in just a few moments when she heard Willow’s voice again. “How do you know?” 

“Know what, baby?” Tara turned into the embrace, Willow dropped to her knees in front of her girlfriend, snuggling in between her legs and resting her hands against the other girl’s back. 

“What to write about? What to write? What words to use? I just… I can’t imagine writing the way you do, putting words to paper to… create beauty. Is there some sort of method?” Willow’s voice was small, mildly tamed by the realization there was something she didn’t know how to do. 

Tara laughed, filling the air around them with a delicious sound that made Willow’s heart leap with happiness. She hummed a bit, a long drawn out note as she thought of a response that might make sense to her very inquisitive, science driven girlfriend. “I hear words in my head, usually just an opening line or two, sometimes four or five. I try to write them down as quickly as possible and let the image expand from there.” Willow’s face contorted immmediately into a puzzled expression. “Sweetie…” Tara trailed off, her eyes sweeping over the redhead’s face. “I have a theory. I write it down. From there, I experiment with possible facts to expound on the idea.” 

Willow leaned forward into Tara’s body, nuzzling her face into ample breasts that she had come to know and love. She had seen beautiful sights in her life, that she was sure of: sunrises, sunsets, nature in its glory, manmade wonders, a computer program that achieved its primary goal with simple ease. But the moment she had seen Tara’s breasts for the first time, rays of sunlight streaming in from the window, dust particles floating about the air, and those rosy nipples cast in a heavenly glow – tears sprung to her eyes in the realization of the beauty of humanity. If one woman could be so perfect, certainly there was a Creator, a mastermind of the universe that had made a world of wonder. A God or Goddess who had seen fit to make the world splendid, to make a fit for Willow that felt like a missing piece of herself. A piece of herself that was able to take those moments of perfection and make them palatable for human consumption with words. This was the essence of Willow’s question. How do you make the world perfect with words? It was a question she didn’t know how to ask. 

Tara smiled and ran a hand through her lover’s hair. “I think of you, my love, and the words just seem to pour out.” The gorgeous smile she received in response brought a flood of words to Tara’s mind. 

Portland, Oregon  
February, 2005

Her eyes skirted over the lines she had just written, resting her pen between her lips like a cigarette, she used her tongue to wiggle it from side to side, something she did out of habit whenever she reread her work. She rolled her head around her shoulders, feeling the tenseness of her muscles. Dropping the pen, she ran her hands over her face, and felt herself begin to shift back to the real world. On stage, a woman strummed the strings of her guitar as her voice sailed out over the low rumblings of patrons in the coffee shop and the hiss of the espresso machine. Her voice was haunting and beauitful, the lyrics a reqium to some lost love. Tara ran her hand through her hair, tired of empathizing with this kind of music. 

The door of the coffee shop opened, and Giles strolled in in his usual manner, carrying his briefcase in one hand and a guitar case in the other. His lips curved into an affectionate smile as soon as he saw her. “I’m not late, am I?” He asked as he reached her, dipping forward to drop a kiss on her forehead. He straightened and took a long look at her. “You’re are not sleeping nearly enough.” He placed his case down gingerly, his suitcase followed. “You are certainly a sight for sore eyes.” 

“It’s good to see you too, Giles.” She smiled back at him, knowing he didn’t expect answers from her for half of what he said. 

“So, what has you so busy, my dear?” He raised his hand to gesture at the waitress before he settled his gaze back on her, pulling the glasses off of his face and beginning to clean them. 

“Oh, it’s nothing.” She smiled shyly, thanking the waitress for taking that moment to pop up and interrupt them. Giles placed his order for tea, and she ordered another chai. “How are your kids?” 

“As delightfully irritating as ever.” He smiled. “How is the demon?” 

Tara laughed. “She’s well. She’s on a date or I’m sure she would have made an appearance.” The meeting between Anya and Giles had been inevitable, as they all attended Three Friends open mic nights. Tara couldn’t have imagined beforehand how totally horrified both Anya and Giles had been with one another. Since then, they had formed an amicable distaste for each other, knowing they shared Tara’s best interests at heart was enough of a bond for them to harbor secret good will they seldom admitted to Tara, and never to each other. 

“And what are you working on?” He pointed towards her still open notebook. 

“I don’t know, Giles.” She sighed, slumping back in her seat. “Nothing’s been flowing lately, except this stupid project I started a few years ago.” 

He cocked an eyebrow at her. “A stupid project?” He shook his head. “I can’t imagine such a thing.” 

“It’s really embarassing. I can’t imagine ever doing anything with it, it just won’t leave my head.” 

“Can I convince you to tell me about it?” 

“Not right now.” She smiled at him, and the waitress brought their drinks before he could totally object. “So what are you not telling me, Giles?” 

“What on Earth could you be referring to?” 

She rolled her eyes. “I called you at the office three times last week, you never called back. Finally, I call you at home yesterday, and you’re secretive and tell me you’ll meet me here… Something is going on with you.” 

He nodded. “Indeed, there is.” Giles’ gaze drifted down towards his hands, as if they had some kind of hint for the words he should use. “I’ve quit the Council.” He said it quietly, and yet Tara’s ears felt no strain to hear the words. She drew in a heavy intake of breath, and released it slowly through her pursed lips. 

“Oh…” 

He smiled kindly at her. “I believe it’s time for me to end my employment with those bloody vultures.” She nodded, feeling numb. Of course it’s time, Giles! She knew how hard it was for him at the Council, so many rules and regulations about what was “literature” and what was not. Still, could she help but feel a little sorry for herself? The one refuge she had at that company was leaving… who would she turn to now? 

“So, what do you plan on doing now?” She asked, attempting to keep her voice level. 

He reached his hand across the table, covering hers with his. His voice dropped again, and he leaned forward so she could hear him. “I’m thinking of starting my own company. Portland is a perfect place to start an independent publishing house, and I think it’s time I did something that is all my own. I’m hoping that I can take my favorite poet with me.” He looked at her over the rim of his glasses. “And, of course, whatever ‘stupid project’ she’s working on.” 

The tears nearly spilled over, despite her efforts to keep them at bay. Her heart raced as her brain fought to keep up with this new revelation. Could they really be free of the Council’s constraints? No, no, she couldn’t. She had a contract for another book with them, she had to fulfill it. She shook her head, pulling her hand away from him. 

“Perhaps she could publish something under her own name?” Hope flooded her entire body. Of course! My contract is under my pen name! 

A smile lit up her face as she looked at him. “This could work.” 

“Yes, yes it might.” He smiled back at her. “So… tell me about your project.” 

Sunnydale, California  
August, 2008

Dawn held the wrapped present tightly to her chest, sharing a glance with Buffy. “C’mon, Dawnie, where’s the usual birthday enthusiasm? I’m getting used to you being more excited about my present than I am.” Willow flashed a grin at her, her tongue protruding through her teeth in amusement. 

“I’m all with the woo and the hoo.” Dawn answered distractedly. 

“Oh yeah, definitely party girl.” Xander laughed behind her. “Will’s right, Dawn, you’re a little more sedate than usual.” 

“No, no, I’m great.” She flashed a quick smile, the butterflies in her stomach dancing about to a decidedly disco beat. Seeing the looks on her friends’ faces, she relented. “I’m a little nervous about this present.” 

“Anything you give me will be perfect, Dawn.” Willow answered, placing her hand on Dawn’s arm. “I love you, and you are present enough.” 

Dawn smiled a real smile, and pulled Willow into a hug. “I love you too, Willow, so much.” She pulled away, looking Willow in the eye. “I hope you get everything you deserve this year.” Her words were punctuated, as if she were trying to make some larger point. 

“You really are all with the seriousness.” Xander looked on at his two best friends, slightly bewildered. He turned to Buffy, his eyebrows raised in question. 

“Go ahead, Dawn.” Buffy gave Xander no answer, her face etched in the same nervous expression on her sister’s face. “Give her the present.” 

Willow grabbed the present out of Dawn’s hands, grinning all the while. She shook it, turning it over in her hands. “Is it a DVD?” She giggled at herself. “Oooh, is it D.E.B.S.?” 

“Oooh, yeah, is it D.E.B.S.?” Xander repeated behind her. 

“You two just like hot women making out.” Buffy laughed, easing some of the tension in her stomach. 

“What’s not to like?” Xander answered, wrapping his arms around Buffy. “If Willster would get with the girlfriend having, we could all be enjoying women making out.” 

“Some of us more than others, Xand.” Buffy elbowed him in the stomach playfully. 

“Alright, alright, enough about my non-existent love life. This is supposed to be a party.” Willow poised her hands to rip the paper open, and was stopped by Dawn’s hands on hers. 

“Seriously…” Dawn said, catching Willow’s eyes and holding them. “I’m not sure if you’ve seen this or not, but… well, I thought… you know what? Just open it.” 

Willow looked at her friends quizically, finally seeing the nervousness on the sisters’ faces. “Guys, what is this?” She asked, but only received hand motions to open it in response. She pulled at the paper, laughing at Dawn’s amazing ability to use a whole roll of tape on one present. Finally, she began to pull the paper off, revealing a book. “Oooo… Dawnie books!” 

“More lesbian poetry?” Xander asked. “She’s got a whole shelf full!” 

“Shut up, Xander.” Dawn smiled at him. 

“‘What Could Have Been’….” Willow’s voice trailed off after reading the title. She flipped the book over, remembering the line from her favorite poet’s last book. The name on the spine was different. Tara Maclay. Pretty name, she thought. She settled into her chair, reading the back cover. 

Outside of a coffee shop, on a perfect Portland night, Tanya catches sight of a woman, the most beautiful she’s ever seen. Shocked by the intensity of her desire, Tanya embarks on a journey to follow this beauty to the ends of the earth. As luck would have it, they cross paths just a few months later, and so begins the trip of a lifetime. Have you ever met someone just once and wondered What Could Have Been? This lyrical work, poetic and haunting, is a look at that moment in one woman’s life. 

“Have you read it yet?” Dawn’s voice brought Willow crashing back to reality. 

“No, I haven’t even seen it…” Willow answered, her thoughts racing a million miles a minute. Tara. Tara Maclay. Is it possible? Is it even remotely possible? Could this be Tara? She looked up at Dawn. “Have you?” 

Dawn nodded, looking down at her shoes. “Yes.” 

“Oh… and?” Willow’s brain was barely functioning well enough to get the words out, but she forced them. Her ears felt dull, barely able to grasp sound. She breathed deeply, feeling vaguely like she was trapped underwater. Her movements were slow, her muscles hard pressed to force themselves to work. 

“Willow… it could be her.” The words hit Willow straight in the chest, knocking the breath out of her. She stared at the cover of the book, and then back at Dawn. “It’s about Tanya, who meets a redheaded woman named Alyson outside of a coffeeshop and tracks her down…” Dawn stopped, looking up at Buffy for help. She drew in a deep breath, and finally concluded softly, “Willow, it really could be her. And if it is, she’s been thinking about you, too.” 

“Damn.” Xander breathed softly behind them.


	8. Chapter 8

Sunnydale, California  
November, 2010

The audible click of the door shutting reverberated in her ears, and Tara turned with a tired smile on her face towards the couch. She noted the large brown lump of overstuffed girl and blanket and dropped her body weight next to it. A groan sounded out from beside her, and she bit her lip to keep from laughing. “Will, baby?” She asked gently, reaching out a hand to run along some unidentifiable part of her girlfriend’s body. 

Something unintelligible came from beneath the blanket, and Tara couldn’t help to begin tickling Willow’s body over her cotton shield. Shrieking and kicking followed as Willow dissolved into a fury of activity to jump and dodge attempts to tickle her. Finally, she threw the blanket off of her head and declared in a sad voice: “I am never eating so much, ever, ever again in my life.” Her body fell limp around her. “Nor are we ever hosting Thanksgiving ever again. I love our friends, but this was so much work.” 

Tara shot a wide-eyed look at the redhead. “Will… ummm…”

“What?” Willow asked, her eyes growing wide in response to Tara’s expression. 

“I… I kinda told them we’d make it a yearly tradition.” Tara’s voice was as small as Willow had ever heard it. 

Her head dropped back down to the pillow, and she groaned again. Sympathetically, Tara reached out a hand and starting rubbing her girlfriend’s belly. “Buffy and Dawn try to avoid each other and wind up fighting constantly! Xander seems to suddenly be in the room when we kiss, he appears from nowhere! And I like Giles a lot, and Jenny couldn’t be nicer, and actually the two of them together are kinda fantastic, ‘cuz of the y’know, him liking books and her liking computers? I could just talk to them both for hours… But I kind of get the feeling that they feel out of place here. And Anya… Anya scares everyone.” Willow finally stopped to take a breath, and she looked at Tara. “We should definitely make this a traditiony kind of event. We should do that.” 

Tara burst out laughing. “I told them we should rotate between houses, love.” 

“It’s still a lot of work.” Willow pouted a bit from her prone position. 

“It is. But I like it. I like having our family here in one place, and I like your friends a lot too, Will. I’m really starting to feel like I could fit in.” 

“You do fit in. You fit with me, and don’t you forget it, missy.” Willow grinned, and held her hands out to Tara, who helped to pull her up. They kissed, quickly, before smiling at each other. 

“Can you believe…?” Tara trailed off, not knowing how to say how strange life was, how elated she was that things had turned out this way. 

“Believe it, baby. We’re here.” Willow leaned forward, pulling Tara in close to her body. Tara’s cheek pressed to Willow’s breast and she listened to the other girl’s heartbeat. The slow beating, how warm and soft Willow’s skin was… she felt herself let go of the tension in her shoulders, felt it drain out of her body like water receding. Suddenly, it was all gone. They fit together. The tension of not knowing, the potential embarassment they would have faced if it hadn’t worked out, the pure heart break of looking for someone for years to finally find them: this moment, this night when thanks should be given to whoever and whatever you hold dear for being with you, for helping you, this was the night when her thanks was truly given freely for the first time in her life. Because for the first time in her life, Tara Maclay had everything she needed. 

“I love you, Willow Rosenberg.” Tara pressed her hand to the girl’s face, sweeping her eyes over the woman’s expression. Her eyes filled with tears, bubbling big at the tops of her eyelids and then slowly arching out into the unknown and rolling slowly down her cheeks. Willow could watch them form and slowly take the plunge off the cliff. She saw something different in Tara’s eyes, and knew it reflected back at the brunette in her own green eyes. “Do you know that?”

Willow did know that. Willow had known that since the bathroom. Willow could feel it in Tara’s hands when they touched her: the moment Tara grabbed her hand after they found each other, the one simple gesture that stopped everything from falling apart. Willow could read it in Tara’s poetry, in her books, there in black and white and printed on the page was a love story written by Tara for her and she would never forget the words of it, the flow of it, the meaning of it carved forever into her brain as if the words had been inked on her skin, tattoed permanently to her body. Willow knew unequivocally that Tara Maclay loved her. She knew it just as plainly as she knew she loved Tara. It was the essence of truth in her life. “I know that.” 

Tara grinned. “I can’t believe how much you ate.” She reached out a hand, rubbing Willow’s stomach gently. 

Willow settled into the touch for a moment, gazing at the beauty of her girlfriend. “I can’t believe how much food you made. We’ll have leftovers for a week.” She picked up her girlfriend’s arm, pulling it to her mouth, and placing gentle kisses on her wrist. “C’mon, baby, take me to bed. I want to feel your arms around me.” 

“Nothing sounds better.” Tara stood, linking her fingers with Willow’s before pulling the girl up off the couch and leading her into their bedroom. 

Portland, Oregon  
September, 2003

Anya tapped her fingers impatiently on the table edge, glancing over towards Giles, his face buried in a book. She glanced back towards the stage, rolling her eyes at the pimple faced young boy playing acoustic guitar and doing a bad cover of Bob Dylan’s “I Shall Be Released”. Her eyes shot to and fro about the coffeehouse, resting briefly on a man in a beret drinking coffee and working on his laptop. Nice shoulders, she thought absently. She imagined running her hands over the muscles of his arms and drawing him in for a kiss before she decided that he would be a terrible kisser. Enthusiastic, but overly so with his tongue. She turned her attention back to Giles, who continued to studiously ignore her. “Are you ever going to talk to me?” 

Giles sighed, eyeing her over the top of his book. “Won’t Tara be here soon?” He asked, glancing towards the door. 

“She said she was running late. But I’m bored now.” Anya whined. “Can’t you at least fake some interest in my day?” 

“Very well, Anya.” He placed his book back in his briefcase and turned his attention to the girl. “How was your day?” 

“I held several thousand dollars in my hand. That was lovely.” She answered honestly, a dreamy look covering her face as she thought about the money. 

“How… charming.” Giles drew out the last word, meaning anything but. He sighed, shooting a longing look at his book. “Actually, Anya, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

Anya nodded. “She only writes about her.” Giles regarded the girl, somewhat surprised to hear her answer the question he hadn’t asked. When he didn’t answer her, Anya shot him a frustrated look. “What? I can be perceptive.” 

A half smile almost sprang to his lips before he banished it. He shook it away, displeased at the thought of actually liking the demon for a moment. “So it’s true then? She only writes about this one girl?” Giles’ face betrayed his concern, his fingers rubbing absently at his glasses. His efforts to clean them were usually simply a way of gaining his bearings mentally, and this moment was no different. He had always suspected that the woman in Tara’s writing was the same one, the features mentioned too many times to be someone else. 

“It’s true, if you can believe it. Met her once and kissed her twice.” Anya nodded, and then cocked her head to one side. “Or, met her twice and kissed her once… To be honest? I’m not really sure. I stopped listening when I realized she had never had sex with her.” 

“Of course.” Giles replied, as if that was perfectly rational, though the rolling of his eyes gave away his irritation. 

“She doesn’t even date! It’s the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen! To waste such potential on a woman you may never see again… it’s just almost impossible to believe. And it’s not like she couldn’t be having orgasms. She just chooses not to. There’s an incredible amount of women in this town who want to sleep with her! And what does she do? Blushes, stammers, makes apologies and then runs home!” 

“Anya…” Giles sighed, and attempted to find a way to relate to the girl. “I am worried about her. It’s not natural to…” 

“Well, I am too.” She interrupted, looking aghast. “She’s my best friend! Of course I’m worried about her.” 

“And you say you’ve tried to take her out? And she turns everyone down?” 

“Every last one! It’s to the point where I’m thinking of offering my services!” 

Giles sighed, unable to stop his eyes from rolling towards the ceiling again. “Anya, I hardly think that that would help the situation.” 

“Why? I’m attractive! And I’m reasonably sure I can figure this sex thing out. How difficult could it be really?” 

“Well, I suppose that depends…” He trailed off. “My good Lord, woman, how is it possible you reduce all conversations to sex?” 

“I am truly talented.” Anya grinned at him. 

“Indeed you are.” 

The conversation lulled for a moment, as the pimply boy left the stage. They watched him gather his things and go. Finally, Giles turned his eyes back to Anya. “Should we do something?” 

Anya rolled her eyes before turning to him fully in her seat. “Great. What should we do?” 

Giles sputtered for a moment. “Introduce her to someone else? Take her out?” 

“I’ve tried all that already.” She picked up her coffee mug, and took a drink, speaking as she settled it back onto it’s saucer. “I think we may just have to let it run it’s course.”

“Perhaps you’re right.” 

At that moment, Tara strolled through the front door of the coffee shop, putting an end to the conversation. 

Sunnydale, California  
September, 2007

“Alright guys!” Willow called, coming down the stairs. “I have to go to my night class, I’ll see you later!” She smiled at the sight of Buffy, Xander and Dawn sitting on the Summers’ couch, watching cartoons. “I’ll stop for movies on the way home and we can have a movie night?” 

“That sounds great, hanging out with my three favorite ladies.” Xander grinned at her. 

“Have a good day, Willow.” Dawn smiled. 

“Try and meet some hot girls to bring home with you!” Xander called at her excitedly. 

Willow laughed, throwing her backpack over her shoulders. “Yeah right.” She grinned at him, and then took off out the door. 

“This has gone on long enough.” Buffy’s voice left little room for discussion.

“I don’t think we’re allowed to make those kinds of decisions, Buff.” Xander looked at his friend kindly, swallowing a smile. “I know you want to…” 

“Xander, this is not about me trying to run her life!” Buffy interjected, prepared to go on a typical tirade. 

“Actually, it kind of seems like it is.” Dawn grinned at Xander. 

“How can you say that?” Buffy demanded, eyeing the two of them on the couch. 

“Because, Buffy, in Casa de Summers, you rule the roost, everyone knows that. But this is Will’s life, and she’s fine.” Xander sighed. “I know that we all think she should be out there, meeting other people, but it’s not our choice to make.” 

“But…” Buffy began, before being interrupted by Dawn. 

“This is ridiculous. We shouldn’t even be talking about this.” Dawn looked sternly at Xander and Buffy. “You’re her best friends! She would do anything for you, support any decision you made, and you’re sitting here doubting her?” 

“This isn’t exactly…” Xander started. 

“This isn’t exactly what, Xander?” Dawn stood, looking at him furiously. “How many women have you been out with in the past few years? How many, Xander? The last person you dated was Cordelia for love of whoever! And every woman you’ve been out with since has been…”

“Psychotic.” Buffy filled in, glancing at Xander, who looked properly chastised. 

“And you!” Dawn turned, pointing her finger at Buffy. 

“What, me?” Buffy asked, trying to look as innocent as possible. 

“You’re worse than he is.” She pointed at Xander, who looked up at her with a deer in headlights expression. Buffy’s jaw fell. “Are you kidding me?” The incredulousness in Dawn’s voice reached a critical level. “You dated Angel, which fell apart spectacularly after you slept with him, and then Riley – Captain Cardboard himself, who left because you couldn’t share yourself with him!” 

“I…I…” Buffy attempted to speak, before rolling her eyes and closing her mouth. 

“You two have no right to judge her because she fell in love with a stranger. And granted, she doesn’t seem to be doing much about that, but…” Dawn sighed.

“Actually, she built a computer program.” Xander looked a little guilty. 

“What are you talking about, Xander?” 

“She built this program, I don’t really understand it, but… well, it runs all of the available information she has about Tara – and there’s not really much, y’know, but it runs through every Tara who writes something on the internet and every Tara in the phonebook and attempts to sort them from most likely to the least likely candidate.” 

“It does what?” Buffy asked. 

“It’s just…” Xander continued, ignoring the question. “There’s several thousand possibilities.”

“How come she never told us?” Dawn asked. 

Xander shrugged. “I don’t think she would have told me, either, honestly, but I saw her working on it one day.” 

“See? She is doing something about it!” Dawn finished triumphantly. 

There was a long pause as the three of them contemplated each other and Willow. “She was offered a job in Portland.”

“What?” 

“When?” Xander and Dawn demanded together. 

“Three years ago.” 

“Why didn’t she say anything?” Xander looked accusingly at Buffy. 

Buffy folded her arms across her chest, and glanced out the window before flopping herself down on the couch. “She said that she couldn’t be sure that Tara would still be in Portland, and that she couldn’t uproot her entire life for a fantasy.” 

“Instead she can live like a monk here?” Xander asked, incredulous. 

“Xander.” Dawn’s tone informed him he was treading on dangerous ground. 

“We all live like monks, I know, but Willow…” 

“She’s the best of us.” Buffy supplied. 

“She is. She’s helped us all so much. She helped all three of us graduate high school. She helped us when Mom died, she practically supports the house with the money she brings in, I’m sorry, Buffy, but you know she does.” Buffy only nodded, looking down at her feet. “And she does it because she loves us. So we need to do something to help her.” 

“Like what?” Xander asked, demonstrating his ability to be the thickest human being on the planet. 

“Like find her.” Dawn answered for him. 

“How are we going to do that?” He asked. 

“I have no idea.”


	9. Chapter 9

Portland, Oregon  
July, 2008

The combination of caffeine and the high of being on stage flooded her body, cheap euphorics. She eased onto the stool, glancing down at her notes before shining a beautiful smile out at the assorted crowd of the coffeehouse. “Hi guys.” She said, her voice touched with amusement, as she knew so many of the people who regularly attended the open mic. The fact that she hadn’t been booed off the stage years before perhaps the only reason she was a published writer now. “I’ve been in kind of a silly mood all day, so I thought I’d read you something silly.” Her face shifted into a half grin, her blue eyes sparkling under the light. 

I masturbated on the grass,  
because it was just a shade  
darker than your eyes.  
Sliding into this cave,  
dark, dank, and warm  
my fingers busy, messy  
in the red clay mud of me.  
I take a child-like delight  
in the noises I can make…  
Come little spelunker,  
Let us explore nature together.

The crowd, stunned at the word masturbation sat in rapt silence throughout the entire poem, so much so, that Tara began to worry she had overstepped or gotten too silly. When the crowd began laughing at the end, whooping and cheering, quite playful themselves, she offered them a huge grin and stepped off the stage towards her table and awaiting friends. 

“That’s my favorite poem of yours ever!” Anya exclaimed as Tara reached the table, enveloping her friend in a hug. Tara sat and smiled her thanks as Anya beamed at her brighter than the stage light.

“It was cute, T.” Faith spoke begrudgingly, trying to hide the rather large smile she couldn’t make disappear. 

“Thanks, guys.” She smiled at them, stretching back in her seat. 

“So, how does it feel to be a world famous author?” Faith took a sip of her coffee, giving it a look like she wished it was something stronger.

“I’m not near a world famous author.” Tara laughed. “But it feels pretty good to be myself again, you know? And now, onto bigger and better things.”

“I thought you said you couldn’t imagine buying anything bigger than seven in…” 

Tara slapped a hand over Anya’s mouth, sighing. “And that’s enough of that.”

“I dunno, T, I think I could stand to hear a little more.” Faith grinned, shooting Tara a wink. She had been so surprised to see Tara that night at the bar, and now they were actually becoming friends again. Faith was so happy to have Tara back in her life, especially now that she and Kendra were so happy together. And she loved Anya. That girl is flat out crazy. The grin never faltered from her face as her laughing eyes looked back and forth between her friends. 

Tara’s hand slowly fell away from Anya’s mouth, as if she were expecting Anya to say something else. She shot a look in Faith’s direction for offering no help of any kind. “Fine, be like that. I swear if you’d just bought the vibrator I told you to, you wouldn’t be masturbating in the grass.” 

Tara sighed, rolling her eyes. “Anya, that’s not… forget it. You’re right, I’m sex starved and sad, obviously.” 

Anya harumphed. “Obviously.” 

Faith lost what little semblance of propriety she had and laughed, hard. Tara shook her head as if in exasperation before smiling. “I really do love you, Anya.” 

“I love you too, Tara. And I know that the vibrator you bought works just fine.” Anya nodded, and leaned conspiratorially towards Faith. “Thin walls, you know.” 

Tara opened her mouth to say something, anything to change the topic. She certainly didn’t mind Anya’s frankness, but she had to admit she was a little tired of going to bed alone. Tara’s cell phone began to ring, playing a tinny version of “The Muppet Show” theme song. Anya bounced her head along as Tara reached to answer it, Faith fell back in her seat rolling her eyes. “I’m sorry, just one second, okay?” Tara asked, seeing the number and immediately standing as she spoke. 

She headed out the door of the coffee shop, past the woman warbling through a Tracey Chapman song, and picked up the phone when she reached the sidewalk. “Hello?” 

“Hello, Miss Maclay?” 

“Yes ma’am, this is she.”

“Hello, Miss Maclay, my name is Kate, and I’m the booker for Powell’s Books events, and we were hoping you might be interested in doing a reading for us in September?” The voice on the other end of the phone was pleasant, but to Tara it sounded like angel’s bells. When she had first moved to Portland she had dreamed of doing a reading at Powell’s, but she had never actually expected them to want her. Famous, amazing authors read for Powell’s books, and here she was, Tara Maclay, getting the phone call. She tuned back in to listen just in time to hear the woman say “I’m sorry to be calling you directly, I contacted your publisher and he said you make your own decisions.” 

“No, no, Powell’s can call me anytime they want.” Tara answered hurriedly. 

There was a pause, and the voice that came back was laced with a smile. “So will you do it?” 

“Absolutely.” I am doing a reading at Powell’s! She finished the call and slapped her phone shut with her hand before jumping up and down and yelling, “I am doing a reading at Powell’s!” 

One of the several people passing, an older gentleman in jeans and hiking boots smiled at her. “Congratulations, young lady.”

“Thank you very much.” The smile beamed back at him was brighter than any old stage light, it was practically brighter than the sun. 

Sunnydale, California  
September, 2004

“There she is!” Her father’s voice echoed from inside the house as he opened the door, giving her a smile. “Bren.” His voice was warm. “You okay?” His voice dropped, asking her quietly. 

“Nervous.” She answered, stepping into the house as if it were her first time there. She glanced around the living room with new eyes, noticing the museum quality artifacts on the wall with a trained eye. Educated. Privileged. These were the words that flew through her head as she stepped through her parent’s living room. 

Her father shut the door and turned to his daughter, extending his arms for a hug and surprising her in the process. She dutifully stepped into his embrace, inhaling deeply. His cologne hadn’t changed in fourteen years, and the familiarity was incredibly comforting. “It will be okay. She’s your mother, she loves you.” 

As they broke apart, she smiled at him and squeezed his arm before completely pulling away and stepping towards the kitchen. Dinner with the parents, she thought, I can do this. And I can come out to my Mother tonight, too. The thought surprised her, it was so unlike all of the other dreadful ones she’d had on the way over. She expected to fold under the weight of her unspoken confession, but she couldn’t. Not tonight, tonight she has to know. I can’t keep pretending. 

“Hello, Willow.” Her mother’s voice cut through her. 

“Hi Mom.” she answered, unable to look up. Neither made any move towards the other. 

“Well, as usual, we’ve invited you to dinner and we can’t cook. The delivery boxes are on the table, would you grab them dear?” 

“Sure, Mom.” She answered reflexively, already moving to grab the food and dinnerware.

“How’s work going?” Sheila made a gesture, “inviting” them all to sit down. 

“It’s fine.” She put the boxes on the table and handed plates and silverware to her parents. 

“And Bunny Summers and her cousin Twilight?” Sheila asked absently, her eyes traveling over Willow’s form as she handed things out. 

“Buffy and her sister Dawn are fine, Mom.” Willow rolled her eyes and slumped down on the couch. 

“You look too skinny.” 

“Thanks.” 

Finally, Ira broke in. “How’s Xander?” 

“He’s good. He’s now lead foreman for his entire company, so he’s got an office and a raise. He just bought a new car.” 

“Well, that’s fantastic. It’s amazing how people can rise above.” Sheila’s voice cut from the couch and Ira shot her an increasingly nervous look. 

“Rise above?” Willow repeated, her blood beginning to boil. Why am I so afraid of this woman? She barely pays me any attention. I’ll tell her I’m gay and the next time we speak she’ll ask how my sex change operation is going. 

Mrs. Rosenberg pulled her glasses onto her face and focused all of her attention on Willow. “So your father tells me there’s something you’d like to discuss.” 

Willow shot her father a look, and he sheepishly pushed his food around his plate, shrugging his shoulders. “Yes, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you for a long time now.” 

“And what is that, dear?” Sheila asked, her eyes never leaving Willow’s face, her eyebrows raised in question. 

“Mom, I…” She sighed, frustrated by herself. I’m not ashamed of myself. I’m not. She repeated it like a mantra in her head. 

“What is it, Willow?” Her mother asked again. 

“I’m not ashamed of myself.” Willow’s eyes opened wide, she hadn’t meant to say it out loud. 

“I’m sorry, dear?” 

“There’s no reason for you to be ashamed of yourself.” Ira spoke suddenly, forcefully, directing all of his attention at Willow. “None whatsoever.” He repeated, catching her eyes. 

“I know, Dad.” Willow smiled at him gratefully nonetheless. “Mom…” She waited until she had her mother’s full attention back, as she was looking quizically between the two of them. 

“Are you two keeping secrets from me?” She demanded. 

“No, Mom, I just…” Willow trailed off again, shrinking back from her mother’s flared anger. 

“What, Willow, you just what?” 

“I’m gay, Mom.” And with that,the tight ball in her throat as she said the words unraveled. All of the emotional weight of “coming out” drained out of her body. She almost leapt out of her chair in joy before she realized that regardless of her own jubilation, she loved her mother, and her coming out had just begun. 

“Well, of course you are, dear.” Her mother looked quite satisfied with herself. 

“I’m sorry?” Willow’s voice mirrored her mother’s from moments before. 

“Of course you are.” Willow’s mother sighed. “I may be… slightly detached, but I know my own child.” 

“You know your own child?” Willow questioned. “Mom, you don’t even know the names of my friends!” 

Sheila looked up at Willow, a confused expression on her face. “I’m bad with names. You know that about me.” 

“Mom, you’ve been calling my best friend Bunny for the past seven years!” 

“Is that any more inane than Buffy?” Sheila asked, her face contorting with innocence. 

Ira couldn’t help himself, and he began to laugh. Willow stared on in disbelief before the laughter became contagious. Sheila sat gazing at them both, the same confused expression on her face slowly changing to hurt. “I love you Willow. It doesn’t matter to me who you love... so long as they have an advanced degree in their field.” 

Willow stopped laughing and looked at her mother for the first time in what felt like years. “I love you too, Mom.” The hurt on her mother’s face faded away.

Portland, Oregon  
September, 2007

Dawn stood among the boxes and plastic containers of stuff, surveying it for posterity’s sake. “Well, Dawnie, aside from the serious lack of beer and frat boys, I’d say you’re officially moved in.” Xander grinned, appearing from behind a stack of cardboard boxes. “Not that I…” 

“Thanks, Xander.” She grinned right back. “Can you believe I’m actually at college? I’m moving into my dorm room! This is so cool!” 

Buffy appeared in the doorway, hauling a television and the last box from the car. “Buffy Summers: sister extraordinaire, gorgeous beauty, and pack mule.” She pushed air through her lips, forcing her bangs away from her forehead. Her eyes focused on Dawn. “Thanks for helping me get the last of your stuff.”

Dawn grimaced. “Sorry, Buffy, I was just helping Xander.” She lied quickly.

“You’re forgiven. Alright, Xander, where is it?” Buffy grinned, motioning to Xander. He got a big smile and turned around as if he was looking for something. 

“Hold on, hold on, it’s here somewhere.” He went digging through boxes. 

“What’s going on?” Dawn questioned, watching them with a suspicious look on her face. Xander picked up a shoebox and began to shake it, and her eyes grew wide. She stepped forward to grab it away from him. “Ummm, whatever you’re looking for, it’s not in there.” She grabbed the box out of his hands and scurried away with it. 

“Ok, so don’t want to know what that was.” He turned and found the wrapped package just as Dawn reappeared in front of him blushing. “This is from the three of us.” 

“Presents? For me?” She asked, before sitting down and tearing into the paper. 

“Happy College.” Buffy called, watching as her sister pulled through the wrapping. Dawn sat gaping down at her lap, in her hands was a beautiful new MacBook, and in front of her was her grinning family. “Willow picked it out, ‘cuz she’s better at that than us. But we helped!” 

“It’s true. Buffy and I were there to point and say ‘ooo, shiny’.” 

“Guys, thank you so much!” 

“This is so you can email us every hour and tell us how the search for Tara is going, okay?” Buffy smiled, kneeling down next to her sister. 

“Absolutely! Up to the minute updates!” Looking at Dawn’s glowing face, Buffy turned up to Xander and mouthed “thank you”. 

“And don’t forget to email Willow and say thank you.” Buffy added. 

“We should call her later, she’s totally bummed she couldn’t come with us.” Xander added.

“Maybe it’s better she couldn’t come.” Dawn said, before quickly adding: “So we can start Tara Hunt ’07.”

“So… Step One: Deploy Dawn in Portland is done. What’s step two?” Xander asked, looking at two of his favorite girls in the world. Buffy turned to Dawn folding her arms across her chest. 

“Yeah, Dawn, what’s step two?”

Dawn looked back at her sister and Xander and shrugged. “Go to every damn poetry reading in this city.” 

“Well, there can’t be that many of those, right?” Xander asked, knocking a box over and hearing something smash inside. His face screwed up tightly, and he glanced towards Buffy and Dawn who were staring at him with looks of consternation. 

 

Sunnydale, California  
January, 2007

The sound of footsteps thudding down the stairs caused Buffy to glance up towards the living room entryway as Dawn came through the door. “I know what we can do.” Dawn’s voice filled the living room suddenly, causing Xander to look up from the movie they were watching. 

“Get more popcorn?” Xander asked. 

“No, I mean, I know what we can do for Willow.” Dawn replied. 

“Ok, great plan of attack number five hundred and twenty seven, spill.”

“I’ll go to Portland.” 

“Ahhh… if it was that easy, don’t we think Willow would have done that by now?” Xander asked, holding up a pillow, afraid to be hit by a Summers woman. . 

“I mean, I can go to Portland for college.” Dawn spoke each word slowly.

Buffy and Xander were quiet. “I need scholarships, Buffy, I know. How was I expecting to go to college any other way? Look, my grades are excellent, Willow tutors me when I have trouble, I have extra-curriculars, and there are plenty of good schools in Portland. I can do this for her. Besides, it’s not really like I’m doing anything, ‘cuz I’m just going to school, right?” Dawn smiled smugly. 

“I guess that makes sense…” 

“Are you sure you want to go so far away?” Buffy looked away as she asked, wiping her eyes quickly in an effort to hide tears. 

Dawn saw them anyway, and plopped down between Xander and Buffy on the couch. She wrapped Buffy in a hug, which was gratefully returned. Xander, never one to miss out on a hug, leaned forward and wrapped his arms around both of them. “It’s not that I want to go far away, but I can do this! For Willow! Like we’ve been talking about. Isn’t it worth a shot?”

Buffy looked at Xander over Dawn’s shoulder, her eyes shooting a question in his direction. He nodded in response. Buffy settled back to regard her, pulling them all out of the embrace. “For Willow. Why don’t you apply, and we’ll see how things go?” 

“Yes! Thank you! I knew you’d say yes!” Dawn jumped up happily. “If she’s there, I’m gonna find her, I promise.” 

“We know you will, Dawn.” Xander smiled. “Why don’t you go check out some schools?” 

“I will! This is so exciting!” She called as she headed back up the stairs. 

“It’s amazing she hasn’t destroyed this entire house, the way she runs around.” Buffy said, sniffling. Xander looked at his best friend and his heart broke for her. Even with scholarships, it was a fair distance between Sunnydale and Portland. He knew Dawn had to break out on her own, she’d been hanging out with the three of them since she was just a kid. Buffy sighed. “She has her heart set on this, Xand. Out of state? I just don’t know if we can really afford it, even with scholarships…” 

“Actually, I think you can.” 

“Xander, you’ve seen our finances, we barely float. I was hoping to wait just a little longer before I told her how bad it really is.” Tears returned to her eyes, as she buried her face into his chest. 

“Buffy, I can help.” 

She shook her head against his chest before leveling their eyes. “Xander, I can’t let you do that, it’s not right…” 

“It’s not right to help family?” Xander asked. “You. Dawn. Willow. We’re family. Willow’s said it. I’ve said it. It’s true, Buffy. Willow and I… this is our family…” He trailed off. “Look, I can help you, Dawn, and Willow all at the same time. How many chances does a guy get to do that? So that’s what I’m going to do. We’re family, Buff. Besides, I’ve kind of already started a college fund for Dawn with Willow…” He smiled at her sheepishly. “We put money into it once a month.” 

Buffy broke into tears anew, pulling him in close to her. “I love you guys, so much. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” 

“That’s what we do, Buffy. And that’s why we have to do this for Dawn. And for Willow.”


	10. Chapter 10

Portland, Oregon  
May, 2007

Date: May 16, 2007 6:54 PM  
From: Dawn Summers   
To: Buffy Summers , Xander Harris   
Subject: Codeword Grrr Arrrg!!! 

Dear Buffy and Xander, 

I think I did it! I really think I found her! I can’t believe it! 

I tried calling you, but none of you are home! Call me immediately! 

Love,   
Dawnie

Portland, Oregon  
October 2008

 

Tara’s white skirt was bunched about her hips, and she sat crosslegged on her couch, gazing contentedly at Willow as she talked about her day. The words came, and Willow’s mind processed them, but she heard precious little of their actual meaning. She heard the gorgeous melodic sound of her girlfriend’s voice, lulling her into a type of deep complacency. Her eyes fell closed, and then opened, afraid she might miss some detail, terrified to lose even one of her girlfriend’s carefully chosen and beautifully used words. What was it to date a poet? For Willow, it was to see the world finally through the eyes of an artist. It was to see the beauty and not the function. Through Tara’s eyes, she saw the world anew, and felt for it a new kinship she had never known. 

And in her own way, Tara had taught Willow a great deal about sex and love. Not the mechanics, those Willow knew instinctively, she relied on her wits and trial and error for that kind of knowledge. Instead, Tara had taught Willow to really see herself, and Tara in turn. And Willow saw it all. She saw the bare skin of Tara’s arms and chest, soft, with mild imperfections that she longed to run her tongue over. She noticed the way Tara’s nipples pushed out against the tight knit of her brown tank top, pink, full, bite sized perfection. Tara spoke, and Willow watched her lips move, full and red, they smacked and bounced against each other, and Willow fought the strong desire to launch herself across the divide between them, pin Tara down beneath her body, and ravage her mouth. She bit back the moan that flooded to her mouth, imagining the softness beneath her, Tara’s breasts against her stomach. 

Tara’s knees were exposed, slightly darker than the rest of her skin, not unlike the color pancakes take when they’re cooked. How smooth Tara’s thighs would be under her questing tongue, how they would taste, bending apart with pressure from her hands. She imagined sliding in between Tara’s legs and pressing a kiss against her lips, running her hands under the cotton of the shirt and pulling it over Tara’s head. Her girlfriend’s nipples, already hard in the slight breeze from the window, would wink at her, begging to be licked and sucked. 

So it was a surprise to Willow, so lost in the images flooding her mind, when she felt warm lips graze the skin behind her right ear, the soft fleshy part of her skull lavished with attention. Willow had never been kissed there before, and she knew instantly that she only ever wanted one set of lips pressed there again. It was a surprise to smell Tara’s scent, fresh linen and summer heat, emanating from her impressive cleavage, now pressed against Willow’s chin. The expanse of her girlfriend’s breasts laid out before her for the taking. The delightful pressure of Tara’s weight pressed against her body and made her hips roll slightly against it, seeking contact. She moaned, not bothering to bite it back, wanting the moment to escalate, wanting to see Tara naked for the first time. 

She shifted her head to meet Tara’s gaze, and their eyes met. Not a word was spoken, they simply gazed into each other, willing the other to make a move. They were frozen, statuesque against their rushing blood. Willow’s ears began to pound with the blood through her veins, the soft thuds of her increasing heartbeat. The warmth of Tara’s breasts emanated against her face, and before she knew what she was doing, she had pressed her lips against the delicious softness of the skin. A gasp sounded from above her, she bent her head towards Tara’s, capturing her lips, owning them. Gentle pressure gave way to open mouths and tongues circling, dancing. Soft lips and rough tongues, and they held their breath for fear it would force them to pull away. 

The kiss broke reluctantly. Tara’s arms encircled Willow, her lips tracing down the redhead’s jawline. Willow’s head rolled back, offering Tara unrestricted access to her neck and ear, she could feel Tara’s smile against her skin. She slumped her body down to give her love more access, and felt suddenly the throbbing of her lower extremeties. The seam of her jeans pushed directly against her clit, and she groaned, Tara’s lips against her throat, the sound vibrating beneath her. Those oh-so-soft lips, the seam of her jeans, Tara hadn’t touched her yet, and still… her body was acutely aware, her skin tingling, her nipples flush and hard, with every gaze of Tara’s lips against her skin, she felt herself flood until she knew she’d have to wash her jeans in the morning. 

Tara could feel Willow beneath her, and it took every ounce of her strength not to rip the girl’s shirt open. She knew she should stop, she knew she should pull away and they should keep talking, talking was good and safe and… who knew Willow’s skin would be so warm? How could she have known that brushing her lips against it would be like brushing them with silk? Her naughty tongue slipped from her mouth and traced over Willow’s pulse point before sucking it between her teeth. She heard a full-on gasp from Willow below her, and her hands trailed down to the hem of Willow’s shirt and slipped underneath. The skin of the redhead’s stomach under her fingertips forced her to bite her lips to stop herself from grabbing and kneading Willow’s breasts. 

She forced herself away, reluctantly. Her hands fled from Willow’s skin, so soft and warm, and rested back against the linen of her skirt. She dipped her head down, allowing her hair to fall over her face, and she shook her head, her eyes firmly closed. Her hands clenched into fists and then relaxed again and again. For Willow’s part, the sudden lack of heat and body mass was painful in a deliciously real way. She nearly screamed in frustration, they teetered like this, back and forth, tempting the fates so often. 

“Tara?” Her voice was a car over gravel. “Baby?” She pushed her hand into her girlfriend’s hair, pulling it out of her face and tucking it behind her ear. She leaned forward and tipped Tara’s chin so she could get a better look at the woman’s face. 

Tara shook her head again. “I’m sorry.” 

Willow exhaled a long stream of air through her lips. “I have to admit, I’m getting kind of tired of how often we apologize to each other. Especially for things we both want… At least…” Willow’s eyes grew wide, as if it were the first moment she’d ever suspected her thought could be true. “Oh God, Tara, we both want it, don’t we? I’ve been rushing you. I’m an insane lust monster. I’ve been leading you astray with my demony lusty ways.” 

Despite how she felt, Tara laughed out loud. “There isn’t even a remote possibility that I don’t want you.” 

“Okay.” Willow nodded to herself, thinking. “Then what? ‘Cuz we’ve been a go more than once, I think… And then, nothing. We pull away.” She sighed, it was heavy with her frustration. “Am I not doing it right?” The words themselves were small, and when Tara turned with an alarmed look towards her girlfriend, she saw something she almost couldn’t believe: Willow looked small, barely fifteen, much the way Tara imagined she must have looked as a teenager, lonely and a little scared. She opened her mouth to speak, but the weight of her own insecurities beared down, and she said nothing. “I’m not doing it right.” Willow said, almost to herself. “Here you are, all knowledge woman, I mean, you’re an erotic poet, what was I thinking? How can I ever measure up to you?” 

The need to comfort Willow suddenly seemed more important than her own insecurities, and she opened her mouth and the words came flooding out. “Willow, no. No, I’m not knowledge woman at all. This was what I was afraid of, you thinking I was all with the knowledge, but I’m not.” 

“But you’re all with the writing about sexual adventures!” Willow filled in, examining the growing blush on Tara’s face and neck, knowing it was mirrored on her own skin. 

“Willow, sweetie, fantasies. Dreams. Imagination.” Tara felt the wave of embarassment flood her entire body, something she had grown accustomed to as a teenager. She fought it down, knowing that they needed to have this conversation. “Didn’t you hear me? I told you and an entire audience of people that I write about you… us. Well, my imagined us.” 

“I was too busy staring and listening to my heart pound in my ears.” Willow smiled nervously, feeling the space between them grow larger. 

“I’m really not all with the knowledge.” Tara forced her eyes up to Willow’s, and offered her a similarly weak smile. 

“There’s a lot of pressure for this to be right.” 

“Yeah.” 

The silence grew between them, and their bodies, still pressed together thigh to thigh, began to stiffen under the strain. The quiet contemplation was doing nothing to help their nerves. Willow felt herself begin to grow dizzy, her brain racing with a thousand different thoughts. They had been looking for each other for so long. Anticipation had built, dreams and fantasies had been what they sustained themselves with, and now, seated next to each other they were terrified of reality. Tara felt the nagging voice of doubt in her brain. What she wanted was plain to her, as simple a fact as the sky was blue, the grass was green. Still, mind numbing fear was a lot to conquer, her mind pushed back. 

“Fuck it.” Tara murmured, under her breath, testing it. The assertion felt not only good, but somehow totally right. 

“What?” Willow asked. She heard the words, but didn’t know what they were in response to. Fuck us? Fuck trying? Fuck what? 

“Fuck it.” Tara said clearly, resolutely. With that, she picked herself up off the couch and held her hand out to Willow. “Come with me?” She asked, her voice and face softening. 

Portland, Oregon  
September 2008

Willow felt strangely cold and hot at the same time. She was sweating through her t-shirt, but every breeze made her shiver and goosebumps mar her otherwise perfect skin. She shifted her weight from one foot to the next and back again. She tapped her fingers against the keyboard of her laptop, absently running through code. Her eyes drifted occassionally towards the book laying on top of her laptop case. Shaking her head, she pulled her attention back to her computer. Impulsively, she stood, moving towards the bathroom. She stopped in front of the mirror, contemplating, before looking up at herself in the mirror. Her eyes scanned her body, glancing over her clothing, and more particularly her form in them. She had never been particularly self-conscious with herself, she readily accepted her body with a scientist’s eye. She was lean, but curvy enough. The nerdy graphics and insane color that featured prominently in her high school clothing had long since been banished from her wardrobe – for the most part. Still, in this moment, she critiqued her form, wondering at how she must have changed in eight years. She was older, for sure, her form filled the way an adult’s does. Her face had oh-so-slight traces of laugh lines, her eyes strained ever so slightly from years of staring at a monitor. And yet, even she had to admit that she was fairly attractive, all things considered. 

She sighed, feeling silly for her own attentions. It didn’t really matter what she thought. Only one opinion mattered today. Her heart fluttered in her chest, and for a moment, she worried it was possible she could be having a heart attack. No, that’s silly. I’m fine. She raised a hand to her chest and sauntered back into the room and threw herself down on the bed. In three hours I’m going to see Tara. In three hours, I’m going to meet the woman of my dreams… again. Her hands balled into fists, and she smacked them down on either side of the bed, wanting to scream and laugh and cry. She was afraid to do anything lest she awake from this fantastic dream. Three hours from now, I’ll be in a room with her. Oh God. Where the hell are my friends?

As if by some miracle, the phone rang, jarring Willow enough to send her three feet in the air. She moved towards the sound, propelled on, feeling as if she were watching herself from three or four inches behind her eyes. Her body felt like it was floating, her limbs, lacking the restrictions of gravity, moved as if propelled by clouds. She picked up the phone, and knocked over the receiver in the process. She heard Xander’s voice, which seemed to calm the rushing of the waves she felt down her spine, and heard herself answer, some collection of words strung together that seemed to please Xander. The line disconnected, and her busy brain informed her that her friends would be at the hotel for her in twenty minutes. She put the phone down and her gaze fell back to the book. 

Her hand slid out and her forefinger traced the title, as she spoke the words out loud. “What could have been…” She sighed. What could have been… as in, what could have been had you not lived a thousand miles away? Or what could have been if you weren’t such a huge nerd? She hadn’t been able to read past the first chapter, not when she wasn’t sure how the book would end. It had only taken those first few pages for her to know for sure. She was definitely the inspiration for the protagonist’s girlfriend. It wasn’t so much that it was too close to their story for it to be anything else. But what happened when Willow left? She couldn’t bring herself to read it. She had told the Scoobies she had, and Dawn had let slip a few details, believing Willow had known exactly what she was talking about. Still… Willow couldn’t bring herself to read it. Not when the knowing could so easily kill her, ripping her heart out. But today… today she would know either way, no matter what. Today was Willow Rosenberg’s day of reckoning.


	11. Chapter 11

Portland, Oregon  
May, 2008

The loud crash of plates clattering to the floor distracted her, spinning her head away from the conversation. She turned back slowly, catching the eyes of her friend. One eyebrow cocked at her, impatiently awaiting her next statement. Dawn sighed and leaned back into the stool, stared forlornly into her cup. “It’s just…” Her friend impatiently drummed her fingers against the counter. “I just…” 

Rona threw her hands in the air. “I have to work here, Dawn. Spit it out already.” 

“Don’t you ever feel like love is just completely doomed?” Dawn crossed her arms in front of her on the counter and dropped her head down. “I mean, my family is kind of cursed. My sister, Xander… my Mom! And Willow… well…” She sighed again, shaking her head. 

Rona couldn’t help rolling her eyes. “Dawn, c’mon, I’ve heard all about your supposed curse. You’ve only been hanging out for a few months. I mean, he’s a nice guy, sometimes the message just doesn’t get through.” 

“Short of me throwing myself at him, what else can I do?” Dawn whined. 

“I don’t know, Dawn, but I’m going to have to go make a drink, so hold that thought.” Rona turned on her heel and spinned away from her friend. Dawn’s eyes followed her, but she dissappeared out of view. 

Dawn sighed into her arms again, before feeling a gentle hand on her shoulder. Glancing up, she caught sight of a warm half smile. The stranger spoke to her. “Boy trouble?” The woman asked, her voice completely comforting. 

“How did you know?” Dawn’s voice held a touch of awe and amazement. 

The woman could barely contain her chuckle, tossing her hair back over her shoulders. “Well, you have that look.” She grinned. “And I was standing here trying to grab some napkins.” She pointed over Dawn to the napkin dispenser. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I’m completely in the way! I’m all the sitting here and not moving. That’s completely inconsiderate! I’m the worst person in the entire world.” 

Tara’s eyebrows shot up, her face contorted into an amused look. “That’s quite the babble.” 

“Runs in the family.” Dawn said with a smile. “Here.” She handed the woman a stack of napkins. “Thanks for being nice about it.” 

“Welcome to the Pacific Northwest.” Tara placed a reassuring hand on the girl’s back. “Good luck with your boy. If he’s smart, he’ll see what’s in front of him.” 

“Thanks.” Dawn grinned, catching Rona approaching out of the corner of her eye. 

“Hey Tara, still breaking hearts?” Rona grinned, her eyes playing with mischief. 

Tara winced before sticking her tongue out. “Don’t tease, Rone, I still feel awful about that.” Tara craned her neck glancing around. “Is she here?” 

“Vi makes it a point not to work on the nights you read.” Rona couldn’t help but chuckle. “You’re a heartbreaker, Tara Adams.” 

Dawn’s eyes lit up, putting. “You’re the Tara Adams? The Tara Adams?” Her eyes shot back to Rona. “This is your friend -- ‘the best poet in Portland’? TARA ADAMS?” Her voice got louder and louder as her excitement grew. 

Rona’s eyes got wide, and she shot Dawn a look that told her unequivocally to shut up. Tara laughed. “Good to hear you’re single handedly making me famous, Rona.” She extended a hand towards Dawn. “Hi, I’m Tara. It’s an absolute please to meet you.” 

“She never told me your name! But I’ve been reading your work for years!” Dawn bounced happily in her seat. “Oh my God, I’m meeting the Tara Adams.” 

Tara couldn’t hold back her grin. “Oh, so you’re the one.” She laughed. “I don’t think I’ve ever met such a rabid fan before.” 

“Please don’t think I’m weird, I just…” Dawn took several deep breaths, before attempting to continue. “My friend, well, she’s more like an older sister, but my friend took a poetry class in college, and got me into poetry too, and I bought her your first book for her birthday and we’ve both been fans ever since! We missed you when you came to Sunnydale, unfortunately, but… oh my god! Here you are! This is just the most amazing thing in the whole world. Wait till I tell her!” 

“Well, please allow me to introduce myself properly to my number one fan. My name is Tara Maclay, and I’m a poet. And you are?” Tara extended a hand playfully towards the younger girl. 

Dawn nearly smacked herself in the head before reaching out to shake Tara’s hand. “I’m sorry, you must think I’m totally bizarre. I’m Dawn Summers, and I’m a student, I go to college with Rona… Wait a second, did you say Tara Maclay?” 

“Pen name.” She said to Dawn. She shrugged, “Publisher’s thing.”

“Oh…” Dawn said, nodding as if she understood. “Cool.” 

“Not really, but you’ve got to pay the bills, right?” She smiled, slightly exasperated. “Well, a friend of Rona’s is a friend of mine.” Tara smiled towards the girl who was watching the exchange with a bemused expression, and shrugged her shoulders under Tara’s gaze as if to say ‘I had no idea’. “And you say you’re from Sunnydale?” Tara asked. 

“Born and raised.” Dawn smiled. 

“Cool place. I like the architecture quite a bit. And the coffee shop there… what’s the name of it?” 

“The Espresso Pump?” Dawn asked, her eyes dancing excitedly. 

“That’s it.” Tara smiled in recollection. “I liked that place.” 

“Well, it’s one of the very few places to go in Sunnydale.” 

Tara nodded. “Admittedly, I’ve only been the once, but I liked it. So, are you staying to hear the reading? It’s always good to see some friendly faces in the crowd.” Tara threw a beautiful smile at Dawn, who found herself a little weak at the sight of it. 

“Absolutely. I can’t wait. I was excited before I knew it was you. Rona has been talking you up for months. I didn’t know she was talking about Tara… well, you.” 

Rona’s face flushed, but both Dawn and Tara ignored her, casting mischevious glances at each other before breaking into chuckles. Tara hummed under her breath for just a moment, turning something over in her head. “And it took you this long to take her up on her recommendation?” 

Dawn laughed. “No, I’ve only been here a few months, and you haven’t read in awhile. Or, so I hear.” 

“Well, I guess that gets you both off the hook, I actually haven’t read in a few months, I’ve been working on something else.” 

“Really?” Rona asked, her voice edged with barely contained excitement. “Is it a new book?” 

Tara smiled indulgently. “It is, just not a book of poems. It’s a novel. I’m praying I’m not completely out of my depth.” 

“Not possible.” Rona looked at Dawn and then back at Tara. “I just mean… okay, fine, you’re my favorite poet. You’re just amazing with words. Okay? I said it.” 

Tara’s face registered genuine surprise. “That’s incredibly sweet, Rona, thank you.” 

“I just didn’t want you to think it was hero worship, or anything.” Rona sighed. “Thank you, Dawn, for this completely awkward conversation.” 

“No, really.” Tara smiled, touching Rona’s arm to get her attention. “It’s very sweet. I’m glad you like my work. You have great taste, so I’m truly flattered. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” A call from the other end of the bar caught her attention, and she gave a little sigh before turning back to her friends. “I have to go help. I’ll be right back.” She hurried away. 

“I can’t wait to tell Willow that I met you, she’s just going to die.” Dawn said, sitting back in her chair, smiling at the thought. 

Tara stopped moving. The color drained completely from her face. Willow? Did she just say Willow? “I’m sorry, what did you just say?” 

“Oh. My friend Willow? I was talking about her earlier. She’s my older sister’s best friend. She’s incredible. She’s like my older sister, y’know? She lives with us. Well, she lived with me and Buffy before I moved here. We’re like a family. Willow, Buffy, Xander and I – my Mom died a few years ago, and we’ve all been taking care of each other since. Well, whatever, in any case, Willow and I are your biggest fans.”

Tara nodded, feeling numb. “Willow.” She whispered softly to herself. It can’t be. There has to be more than one Willow in this world. Can’t be the same Willow. Sunnydale. She said she was from Sunnydale. Sunnydale is in California. Willow was from California. I thought I saw her there, didn’t I? It can’t be. It just can’t be. 

Dawn watched the emotions flood across Tara’s face, and she blinked in confusion. Wait. Tara. Her name is Tara. She’s certainly pretty. Not the same person, right? No. It couldn’t be. But I’m in Portland. I’m here, and here’s a girl named Tara looking freaked out by the name Willow. “Tara?” She asked, her voice quiet. She reached out her hand and touched Tara’s arm, trying to gain her attention. 

Tara blinked, her eyes roaming over Dawn’s face. “I’m sorry, Dawn. I… Can I ask you a weird question?” 

“Of course.” She nodded dumbly, feeling swept away in a world of circumstance. 

“Your friend Willow…?” Tara asked, her body almost shrinking away from Dawn. 

“Yes?” Dawn’s heart pounded in her chest, the air surrounding her seemed to grow heavy with intent. 

“Does she have red hair?” 

“Yes.” Dawn nodded.

Tara bit her lip. “Green eyes?” 

“Yes.” Dawn nodded again. 

Tara felt faint. “She’s stunning?” 

“Absolutely.” Dawn nodded. Her eyes swept Tara’s form. The woman looked ashen, and Dawn worried she might pass out. Using her hand on Tara’s arm, she guided her to sit on the stool next to her. 

Tara sat heavily on the stool, not realizing she’d even put her weight down. Her mind swam with thousands of questions, but the most important one sprang to her lips. “Dawn, has Willow ever been to Portland?” 

“Yes, she has. Eight years ago.” Dawn searched Tara’s face before continuing, but couldn’t read the emotions that swelled. “She came with her parents. One night, she was out by herself and ran into a group of kids. She kissed a girl named Tara.” Tara’s eyes met Dawn’s. “And she hasn’t stopped thinking about her since. Not for one minute.” Tara stared dumbly ahead, and Dawn wasn’t sure she was even still listening. Still, she said the one thing that was on her mind. “And I think you’re that girl.” 

Tara emitted a squeak just before she pitched forward and the world dissolved to black. As Dawn caught Tara’s limp form in her arms, she thought, Maybe love isn’t doomed afterall.


	12. Chapter 12

Sunnydale, California  
September, 2008

“Woah, what’s with the sadness? Did someone die?” Willow’s face contorted in horror. “Wait, did someone actually die?” 

“No, not at all.” Buffy answered quickly, wiping the tears back from her eyes. 

“Everyone’s all with the solemn. What’s going on guys?” Willow dropped herself into the chair across from the couch they were all seated on. She eyed each one of them in turn. “Alright, now I’m feeling weird. What’s going on?” 

They each exchanged looks, willing the others to explain. Finally, Buffy took a deep breath and began. “Willow. We love you, very, very much.” 

“Someone died, didn’t they?” She asked, her eyes growing wide. “Oh God, are you guys kicking me out?” 

“No!” Buffy supplied forcefully. “Never in a million years, Will.” She flashed a kind smile at Willow, hoping to nip that idea in the bud immediately. 

“Seriously, the cryptic is starting to get tedious, here, folks. What’s going on?” Willow demanded, feeling her temper rise. This was her family, why couldn’t they just say what they had to say? 

Seeing things were going downhill fast, Dawn decided to simply spit it out as quickly as possible. Most of the words came out in hyperspeed. “I went to college in Portland to look for Tara and I found her and I want you to come to Portland with all of us to meet her and give you guys a shot at love because we know how sad you are and we know how much you want this, but we’re all scared for you. I’m scared for both of you actually, but we’re scared that things won’t work out and it won’t be what you want, and it would crush us.” 

Silence filled the room for a long moment, Dawn exchanging nervous glances with Buffy and Xander as Willow sat dead silent, unblinking. Usually they could see the wheels in Willow’s head turning, but it seemed like she wasn’t even breathing. For Willow, the words had gone by so fast it took her brain long moments to process. What did she just say? That was quite the babble, we’re spending way too much time together. Wait, what? What did she say? She went to college in Portland to look for Tara. Who is Tara? MY TARA? Her brain screamed. She went to college in Portland to look for Tara and she found her. She found her? My Tara? She found my Tara at college in Portland? The wheels grinded slowly, achingly slowly, each thought forced through her mind. She processed each word, looking for some alternative meaning in case she was missing the point. Dawn went to college in Portland. She went to Portland to look for Tara. She found her. They know where she is. They want me to go there. They want me to meet her. They’re scared. They’re scared?!? Are they kidding? They’re not kidding. They’d never kid about this. Would they? “Are you in any way joking?” 

“No, Wills, we’re not.” Xander supplied, and the three of them went back to staring at her intently. 

Her mouth remained open. The cogs continued to turn. They’re not joking. They know where she is. How long have they known where she is? Where is she? Can I be there? “Can you explain this slowly and from the beginning?” She finally asked. 

“We were worried about you, Will. It’s been a long time, and all you think about is us and Tara. And that’s fine, it’s your choice… but, well, we wanted to help.” Xander began. 

Buffy picked up where Xander left off. “None of us really knew if you were actively looking for her, so we got together as a group and discussed it.” 

“I knew you were running that computer program, but it seemed like there were so many possibilities and not a ton of answers.” Xander supplied. 

“And I knew you were offered that job in Portland, but you didn’t take it to stay with us.” Buffy added. 

“We wanted to help, but we weren’t sure how, until I realized that I had a golden opportunity. College.” Dawn filled in. 

“That’s why you went to Portland?” Willow asked, her voice was sure, but there was a hollowness to it that suggested she was still attempting to process. 

“Well that, and you’ve been talking about it for years. All of those conversations we’ve had about what a cool city it was? And, it’s got a lot of colleges…” Dawn crossed towards Willow, kneeling beside her, and rested a hand on her arm. “We wanted to do something for you, something to help pay you back for all that you’ve done for us.” 

“And you found her, just like that?” Willow asked, her voice still edged with something they couldn’t identify. 

“Well, no… I didn’t even know where to look.” Dawn sighed. “Honestly? I didn’t think I’d find her, but I just kept hoping that I would stumble across her. I thought that if it was supposed to be, it would just happen.” 

“And?” Willow asked. 

“It did.” Dawn answered. 

“How? Where?” Willow demanded.   
Dawn shrank away a little from Willow’s gaze, which was filled with something akin to overwhelming dread and a slight bit of hope. “In a coffeeshop my friend Rona works at. She’s a poet, she was there to give a reading. Actually, she goes there a lot, as it turns out.” 

“When?” Willow’s eyes sought out Dawn’s. 

“May.” 

“May?” She nearly shrieked. 

“Willow… when we figured out that she was the Tara you’d been looking for, when I told her I knew you, she passed out. Right there in front of me, she just… collapsed. It was really scary. When she came to, she demanded to know everything I could tell her about you. She was… actually, a lot like you are right now.” 

“Really?” Willow’s eyes sought out Xander and Buffy. She could tell by the looks on their faces they were slightly afraid of the way she’d been reacting, but she wasn’t sure what she was supposed to be doing. All she felt was a mind numbing shock. She could barely process what was being said, but she understood, unequivocally, that what they were saying was true. Tara. The girl I kissed. The girl I’ve been dreaming about. They know where she is! The colors in the room began to swirl, and she tried to focus but found she couldn’t. She heard her friend’s voices calling her, but she couldn’t respond. The last thing she heard as her whole world faded to black was Dawn’s voice saying, “She’s been thinking about you too.” 

As Willow passed out, Dawn turned towards Buffy and Xander with a slight smile. “Well, that went as well as could be expected.”   
Sunnydale, California/Portland Oregon  
August, 2008

Dawn stood on the back porch, casting wary eyes through the windows into the house. Willow, Xander and Buffy were playing gleefully in the kitchen, laughing and making fun of each other in the traditional Scooby way. She sighed, her eyes running over Willow’s face and the smile that hadn’t dropped away for hours. “I hate lying to her,” she whispered into her cell phone. 

Tara sighed on the other end of the line, watching Anya flip through pages of a magazine on the couch. She ignored the looks Anya was shooting at her, and continued pacing the length of her apartment. “You’re not lying to her… exactly.” 

“Tara…” The tone of Dawn’s voice held a warning. 

“I’m just not ready yet.” Tara’s voice was soft in reply, tinged with hurt and insecurity. 

“I still think you would have been the better birthday present.” Dawn giggled at her own joke, watching Willow through popcorn at Xander. Their goofy antics made her smile. 

“Dawn, I need you to be serious.” Tara responded. She didn’t miss Anya’s roll of her eyes. 

“Tara, I get that you need time to… well, stop fainting when you think about meeting her. But I’m a really, really bad liar. Especially to my family.” 

“Buffy knows, doesn’t she?” Anya pointedly rolled her eyes at the name “Buffy”, mouthing to herself “what kind of name is Buffy”. Tara shot her a look that spelled death.

“Yes, Buffy knows, but she’s worse at lying than I am.” 

“You just need to direct her enough so that she makes the leap on her own. That’s the only way I’m comfortable with this.” Tara responded. 

“Fine. But you owe me big.” Dawn sighed. Xander came to the back door, gesturing for her to come inside. “Look, I have to go, they’re going to get suspicious.” 

“Okay, we’ll have lunch when you get back.” Tara smiled. “Thanks, Dawn. I know it’s hard.” 

“I just can’t wait for the two of you to be together.” Dawn replied. She motioned to Xander that she’d be in in a minute. “I’ll talk to you soon.” 

“Okay, bye.” Tara hung up her phone and flung herself down on the couch next to Anya, who promptly handed her her forgotten glass of wine.

“You sure are drinking a lot since you met Dawn.” Anya remarked. “What kind of names do these people have? Dawn! That’s a time of day, not a name. Buffy! Did California fry their mother’s brain? And don’t even get me started on Willow…” 

“What’s wrong with Willow?” Tara asked defensively. 

Anya snorted. “It’s a kind of tree, for god’s sake.” 

“And Anya is incredibly normal.” Tara rolled her eyes at her friend. 

“It’s not, but at least it has some pizzaz, don’t you think?” Anya’s face crinkled into a grin. 

“Sure, Anya, it’s got tons of pizzaz.” She sighed, taking a deep gulp of her wine. She rested her head against the couch and rubbed the bridge of her nose. 

“Tara?” Anya’s voice seemed more serious suddenly. 

“What is it, An?” Tara didn’t bother to open her eyes. 

“I don’t get it.” 

“What don’t you get?” 

“Why you’re not in California having multiple orgasms on top of multiple orgasms.” Anya answered, her voice still entirely serious. 

Tara sighed deeply, and drank from her wine glass again before turning her body on the couch to face her friend. “Because this isn’t just about sex, An.” 

“I know that.” Anya’s face contorted to hurt. “I know.” She repeated. “It’s just… you love her. You’ve always loved her. You kissed the girl once and you knew from that moment on. And you’ve been waiting eight years, never knowing how she felt, never knowing if she remembered you. You found out almost four months ago that she feels the exact same way about you – which is just insane, by the way. Still, here you are! Encouraging the one person who could literally bring you two together not to tell her you exist! Why? I don’t understand. I don’t understand why you don’t just go to her and start living happily ever after already.” 

Silence filled the room as Anya stared at her friend, and Tara stared back, her blue eyes searching Anya’s face for the hint of sarcasm that she was used to seeing. Finding nothing but her friend’s concern, the quiet broke with a sob. Anya leaned forward and pulled Tara’s body into her own, stroking her hair and letting her cry. Finally, Tara quieted down and relaxed into laying across Anya’s lap. 

“She’s a dream.” 

Anya’s face registered her confusion. “We’re actually positive she’s real now.” She used her best reassuring voice. 

Tara let out a laugh through her tears. “We weren’t sure before?” 

“Well…” Anya started. “No.” 

“Faith saw her too.” 

“Mass hallucination caused by MDMA?” 

Tara shook her head. “She’s not a real person, not in my head. Not after eight years. Not after writing a book about a relationship with her that never happened!” Tara turned her face away from Anya’s gaze. “I just… I would fall apart, An.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I would fall apart if she didn’t want me.” 

“The little brat seems pretty sure she wants you.” Anya answered. 

“Yes, but I can’t be anything more than a dream to her too! Imagine the pedestals that we have each other on! What happens when she’s a real person? Worse – what happens when I’m a real person, with faults and insecurities and I’m not perfect the way I am in her head?” Tara sighed, biting the bottom of her lip to avoid crying again. 

“Tara…” Anya, for the first time Tara had ever known her, seemed speechless. Quickly, she recovered. “You are perfect.” 

Tara laughed. “I’m not remotely close to perfect.” 

“Well, no, you have annoying qualities. You’re nice all the time, to everyone. Until they suck, and even then you’re completely corteous and polite! You’re a good roommate. A little shy, for sure, you never get laid, and you’ve turned down every offer I’ve made for you to induct me into the world of lesbian sex.” 

Tara quirked an eyebrow at her. “These are my faults?” 

Anya ignored her. “But you’re probably the best person I’ve ever met. You’re my best friend, actually – you’re pretty much my only friend, unless you count Faith and Giles. I don’t, but they won’t go away, so there’s not much we can do about that. You put up with me, and I know that’s not easy.” Her lips held the glimmer of a smile. “I’m not an easy person to live with, I know that. I’m brutally honest, I say whatever’s on my mind, regardless of whether or not it’s offensive, and I like sex. Vocally.” The smile formed. “But, Tara Maclay, if this Willow person meets you, there’s no way she won’t want you. It’s just not possible. Because you’re simply the most loyal, dedicated, talented, brilliant, sexy person that exists in this world.” 

Tara’s mouth dropped open, but no sound came forth. She stared up at Anya, unsure of what to say. Tears sprung to her eyes again, and leaked out. She didn’t notice. Anya continued. “It’s actually a shame I’m not a lesbian, or I would have married you by now.” 

“Anya…” Tara started, picking her words very carefully. “I think that’s absolutely the nicest thing that anyone has ever said to me.” 

“You’re welcome.” There was a slight pause as they smiled at each other. “Also, I think the shy thing really is just a cover for a totally insatiable sexual appetite and I think you’d be killer in bed.”


	13. Chapter 13

“It is never too late to be what you might have been.”   
-George Eliot

Portland, Oregon  
September, 2008

Willow’s heart pounded violently in her chest. The blind panic that had been the wait in her hotel room had nothing on this: a terrifying sensation that her frantic mind searched to name. Willow Rosenberg, for all of her brilliance and tendency to babble, lost all capacity for words. She made no movement to rise from her seat as the auditorium cleared around her. She sat, immobilized, staring fixedly on the beautiful woman who was standing stage right, talking with a crowd of people. Her eyes made quick work of the familiar form, encased quite differently than she remembered. The Tara of her memory was always in a waitress’ uniform. She hadn’t realized that until this very moment, that even in her fantasies, Tara wore the black pants, white button down shirt and tie of a waitress. She nearly laughed out loud but she found she had no oxygen to spare. Her breathing was erratic in the way of total panic. 

She fidgeted in her seat, glancing down at her attire with a growing concern that she didn’t look half as good as she should. Perhaps it would have made more sense to come in something decidedly low cut, the way Xander had suggested to her when they were out of earshot of Buffy and Dawn. His boyish grin had done nothing at the time to alleviate the desire she had to punch him in the arm after he had claimed that it was certainly one way to get a girl’s attention. 

Still, not all hope was lost. Tara’s eyes kept drifting over to her, the one lone audience member who had not jumped on the gigantic meet and greet line or wandered out the door. She must have at least some of the woman’s attention. It had been Tara who had locked eyes with her in the midst of her reading. It had been Tara that had nearly caused a heart attack in the midst of her huge event by leveling the expansive blue of her eyes at Willow, who had smiled coyly and read some very dirty language. Listening to Tara read was something akin (she imagined) to being fed a pill that caused orgasm at the slightest touch, being strapped naked to a table without anyone touching you for six hours, and then suddenly feeling hands all over your body at once. Or something like that that’s not so weird. She shook her head to dismiss the thought, and missed Tara breaking away from the line of waiting people. 

It was impossible to miss her agent? begin to assauge wounded egos of the long line of people Tara had left behind. One particularly upset woman took to swearing, and the poor man swept his glasses off his face and began cleaning them with a sense of disdain. Tara had disappeared somewhere back stage, and Willow’s heart gave a saddened thud. Dawn was wrong. She doesn’t want to see me. She doesn’t want anything to do with me. Her head dropped down, and she stared at her lap, trying to will away the tears beginning to form in her eyes away. Her frustration grew as the hot tears rolled down her cheeks and dropped into her hands crossed on her lap. She sighed, fighting back the urge to scream. A hand on her shoulder made her jump three feet into the air. She landed with a thud and shot a glare at the person who had disturbed her.

A very sorry looking Powell’s employee didn’t meet her gaze. “I’m sorry to bother you.” The boy shifted his weight from foot to foot, and ran a hand through his wavy brown hair. 

“What is it?” Willow answered, trying to keep her voice level and failing. 

“Uh… Miss Maclay has asked for you to join her?” Justin, his nametag read, smiled reassuringly at the redhead before him. 

“I’m sorry?” Willow asked, wiping at her tears impatiently. 

“Miss Maclay? Uhhh…” Justin glanced around looking for someone else to help him communicate with the woman. “She wants to know if you’ll come backstage and talk to her?” 

“Yes!” Willow yelled, not meaning to. She winced at the loudness of her own voice, even as she jumped up and threw her arms around him. “Thank you, thank you so much.” 

Justin grinned, and waved an arm in the direction they were headed. “If you’ll just follow me…” He waited for her at the end of the aisle, and walked beside her silently. Her gaze wandered towards him once or twice and he continued to smile at her. 

Willow followed him on shaky legs, cursing her stupid behavior. Still, the emotional roller coaster she’d been on wasn’t nearly half over and she wasn’t sure if she could take much more. Tara. It was all about what Tara would say. Willow couldn’t imagine, mostly because she couldn’t imagine what she would say either. Please don’t babble. Please don’t babble. Please don’t babble. She begged herself over and over again. 

* * *

Tara paced, nearly tripping over her own two feet. What the hell do I say? What do I say?!? Hi Willow, it’s good to see you? Do I just kiss her? Do I hug her? How do I greet her? Hi Willow? Hi? It’s been eight years and you say hi? You don’t know her. You only know what Dawn tells you, and that’s barely enough to even figure out what kind of food she likes! Heaven help me. She froze as she heard footsteps behind her. She heard Justin’s voice clear as day behind her. “Tara?” He asked. “I brought her.” 

Tara didn’t turn completely towards him, afraid she’d catch sight of Willow and she’d been unable to look away. “Thanks, Justin. Do you mind if we talk alone?” 

He grinned, though neither of the women saw it. “Absolutely. Talk away.” He slipped away from them, Tara with her back still half turned, and Willow with her eyes completely closed. It wasn’t until they heard the soft thud of the door closing that they turned their eyes to one another for the first time in a very long time. 

At least I haven’t passed out yet. Tara thought to herself as her eyes swept over Willow’s form. Her red hair was as vibrant as Tara had remembered, her green eyes beacons in the midst of beautiful skin. Those eyes that stared at Tara the same way she stared back. She had trouble letting go of them to let her gaze wander over Willow’s body. She had definitely matured, Tara saw evidence of the eight years they had been separated in Willow’s face. Her form, still thin and yet curvy where it mattered, bid Tara’s eyes welcome, its curves and lines invitations that Tara’s hands were all too happy to accept. Still, as their eyes met once more – those emerald orbs stained red with tears that Tara’s heart sunk to see – there were so many words left to speak before such things could be granted. 

For Willow’s part, she was congratulating herself on not breaking into a long stream of wreckless babble. As her eyes scanned the form of her new companion, she couldn’t help but to think how gorgeous Tara was, how achingly beautiful every single bit of her was. Staring at this woman in the dark of the emptied stage, she knew why she had waited eight years for one person. Her body flooded with the same nervousness she had felt for weeks before, giving her limbs a jellied kind of feeling that made it impossible to step forward or move back. Tension began to build through her form. I can’t do this. She felt her body start to turn and she begged herself to not run away. Please. Don’t turn away now. Her body severed the connection to her brain, and total panic took over. Her body flew into survival mode and she felt herself start to turn away. Please, god, stop me from doing this. The voice was small in her head, and she desperately wanted to be brave, but how could she in the face of everything she had ever wanted and knew she could never have. How could this work out? How would it work out? For her? Measly Willow Rosenberg who has spent her entire life up to this moment hiding from what she wanted? 

Tara watched the panic flood Willow’s face and she watched the girl begin to turn away. Her mind flooded with words to say, stop, wait, where are you going?, and finally, “Willow?”

Willow froze at the sound of the voice directed to her, but didn’t turn back. Her body still said flee, but her mind managed to regain control. She froze in place, waiting to hear, desperately wanting Tara to save her from making this mistake. Is it fair to ask this of her? To stop me from running away? Have some courage. Turn around. Please, turn around. She pleaded with herself, tears of frustration forming in her eyes. 

Tara took a step towards the girl, knowing that the fact that she stopped at all was a good sign. C’mon, Tara, have some courage. She kissed you, all those years ago… it’s your turn. “Willow?” She called again, taking another step forward, examining the girl’s frozen form, turned away from her. She received no answer, but there was no movement away. Finally, she stepped up next to Willow, their bodies mere inches away, and stopped. “Willow, please, turn around?” She tried her best to keep the desperation out of her voice. Willow couldn’t fight the urge to run. She wanted desperately to turn around and face Tara, she wanted to throw her arms around the girl, but her body refused to cooperate, as if some magic had taken hold of her and her body was no long hers to control. Her foot lifted. She lurched forward. Then, the miracle happened. 

Tara saw Willow’s body move away from her. She watched, helpless, as the seconds turned into small eternities. She saw Willow’s foot pick up in the beginning of a run, and she knew. She reached her hand forward in slow motion, her eyes closing as her fingers connected with Willow’s. She grasped the hand in hers, cementing her grip around Willow, and then loosely bringing their hands together. 

Willow stopped moving. She let out a sigh of relief as she felt an electric shock run through her body as their hands connected and interwove. Tara was holding her hand. Thank you. She sent a silent prayer to whoever was listening. She flexed her fingers against Tara’s in their handhold, enjoying the feel of the woman’s skin against her own. She was riveted by the kind of surge that ran though her entire body, the surge created by the warmth and softness of Tara’s hand, it ran through her, down her spine and back up again. She felt her body give over to her mind’s control finally. She sighed a happy little sigh. There was a pressure from Tara’s hand, a pressure that directed her to turn and meet Tara’s full gaze. She took a sharp intake of breath, and turned towards the woman, forgoing the voice in her head that screamed at her to run, and listening to the call of her heart to stop moving and look. She opened her eyes to see Tara once more. 

And she could see her, truly, for the first time. She could see written on Tara’s skin in bold letters, every moment of waiting they had endured, every second she had thought of giving up and hadn’t. She felt silly now, as they locked eyes again, at how nervous she had been that Tara hadn’t wanted to see her. The woman before her, those blue eyes that danced over her skin with a gaze that felt like a hot touch, this woman had wanted. She wants me. Willow knew it unequivocally in those moments, she knew it to her core. And with a deep, shuddering breath, she opened to her. 

“Tara Maclay.” Willow’s lips danced to a smile. “You have no idea how happy I am to know your name.” Tara opened her mouth and closed it, still searching for the words. Willow’s smile grew, and she waved a hand between them. “I’m not sure if this will make sense to you at all…” Willow glanced up, making sure she had the girl’s attention. “But I’ve missed you a lot. I know… that we don’t know each other or anything. But there’s something about you, you just, you got stuck in my head really fast, and there have been so many wonderful things that have happened, kind of because of you, if that makes sense at all. I’m sure it doesn’t. How many times can you ask a person if something makes sense to them without them answering? In any case, I just, I’m so glad I’m here with you.” 

Tara brought her free hand to Willow’s cheek, the smile she gave in response growing more breathtaking with each passing second. “I’ve missed you too. Babbling really does run in your family, huh?”

Willow’s face contorted into puzzlement before she broke into a wide smile. “Dawn?” Tara nodded at her. “She spends too much time with me.” 

“She loves you very much.” Tara responded, running her hand over Willow’s face before dropping it back down to her side. “This is very weird.” 

“Being here with me?” Willow asked, cocking her head to the side with a small smile gracing her features. 

“Yes, being here with you!” Tara laughed. “You look older.” 

“Older?” Willow’s face twisted in distaste. 

“Mature. Sexy.” Tara blushed, the heat flushing her cheeks red. 

“Sexy?” Willow’s voice edged on hopeful, and she grinned at the woman. 

“Beautiful.” They hadn’t realized how close together they were until that moment, the air between them charged with the courageousness of their flirting, which gave way to boldness in other ways. Their manners had eased, and they regarded each other with an identical smile, small, barely there, but one that spoke of the pleasure of their company. 

“That’s not the first time you’ve called me beautiful.” Willow dropped her gaze to her shoes, suddenly incredibly interested in the color of them. She smiled downwards, happy that she’d risked bringing up the beginning. She shuffled her feet, edging herself dangerously closer to Tara.

“No, it’s not.” Tara smiled. “I’m amazed you remember.” 

Willow laughed out loud. “How could I possibly have forgotten anything about you?”

* * *

“How did they look?” Dawn demanded. “How did they seem? Did they say anything with you there?” Dawn’s eyes swept over Justin’s face, trying to gauge any form of reaction. “C’mon, anything… please?” She pleaded with him. 

Justin, for his part, tried not to grin at the adorableness that was Dawn Summers. “They didn’t say anything with me in there, Dawn. Willow was crying when I walked up to her, but when I told her Tara asked to meet her privately, she hugged me.” He paused for a moment. “Which I’ll take as a sign that she likes me – even if she doesn’t know who I am.” 

Dawn grinned at him, stepping forward and wrapping her arms around his waist. “Well, she’ll like you forever now.” She rested her head against his chest, inhaling slowly through her nose, enjoying the lingering scent of his cologne. “Thank you for helping us.” 

“You’re very welcome, Summers.” He circled his arms around her and pulled her close. “How could I deny you?” 

“You could have said no.” Her answer was muffled by his shirt. 

“How could I have said no after you backed me into a door and laid one on me?” He grinned mischeviously, his blue eyes dancing. 

Dawn groaned in embarrassment. “I guess that’s true.”

“I’m glad you did. Rona kept telling me that you liked me, but you played it pretty cool around me.” 

“She told you?” Dawn nuzzled further into his body, sighing. “This is so embarrassing. She’s so dead.” 

Justin chuckled, leaning down to place a kiss on top of her head. “I think she said it because she got tired of me asking.” 

“That’s like, the sweetest thing anybody has ever said to me.” Dawn looked up at him, catching his eyes, a smile playing at the corners of her lips. Justin smiled, bending his face down to kiss her. 

“Dawn, are you…” Buffy’s voice sounded behind them, driving them guiltily apart. Dawn turned to catch sight of her sister stopped and staring. “I thought you were getting information!” 

“I was! From Justin…” Dawn answered, the guilt still hanging like a cloud around her. 

“And this is Justin?” Buffy asked, gesturing towards the boy who was blushing from cheek to cheek, looking appropriately chastised. 

“Hi.” He said weakly from behind Dawn, nudging her with his hand. “You didn’t tell me your sister was scary.” He muttered behind her. 

“Yes I did.” She responded softly. 

“Okay, but not this scary.” He whispered back. 

“You both know I can hear you, right?” Buffy asked, rolling her eyes. Finally, she stuck her hand out. “So you’re ‘my best bud, Justin’ that we’ve been hearing about?” 

“Buffy…” Dawn’s voice came out in a whine. 

Justin couldn’t hold back his grin. “I guess so.” He reached forward and accepted the handshake. “It’s very nice to meet you.” 

Buffy smiled back. “It’s nice to meet you too, Justin. So? We’re dying to know what’s happening, fill me in.” 

“Well, I went to get Willow from the audience as per Tara’s request…” Justin began. 

* * *  
Dangling their legs off of the side of the stage, they sat next to each other, nothing more than a hair’s breadth between them. Occassionally their legs would brush against each other as they swung. It was enough to make concentrating on conversation difficult. As it was a shared affliction, neither noticed the other’s flustered state. “…it was a bust, when all was said and done. I can’t believe you’re not on the internet at all! I’m all with the high tech-ing.” Willow finished. 

What stuck out most in Tara’s mind was the beginning of the story. She had missed the discussion of how it was done, and had been repeating, she looked for me, over and over in her head. When she realized Willow had stopped talking, she blurted out. “You were looking for me?” Tara stared at the redhead, her voice raised a touch above normal in disbelief. “All this time?” 

Willow evaded Tara’s eyes, suddenly feeling very exposed. “I thought – I’m not sure what I thought, actually. I felt like a spell had been cast on me, I just couldn’t get you out of my mind. Really, it was nothing special…” 

“No. That is special.” Tara interrupted. She stopped, searching for the right words. “You are too, y’know. Special, I mean.” Tara glanced down shyly. 

Willow felt emboldened by the assurance that Tara thought of her as special, she reached out and placed a hand on Tara’s cheek, before pulling away and staring down at her feet. Her words were soft, Tara had to lean in towards her to hear them. “We have this family, Xander, Buffy, Dawn, and I. And my whole life has been about us, y’know? Helping each other after Joyce died…” Willow glances up from her shoes finally, making eye contact with Tara before breaking away to fight the tears welling up in her eyes. “She was like a Mom to us all… Xander and I, well, our parents really weren’t… I’ve spent the past eight years of my life working and helping them, and I’ve just never really had anything that was just mine… and I liked that. Having something that was just mine…” She forced a long breath out of her lips, slowing the steady course of words. “And I usually don’t use so many words to say stuff that little, but… do you get it at all?”

When Willow finally looked up into Tara’s face, she was stunned by the beautiful smile that graced the girl’s face and eyes. It was the touch of Tara’s hand to hers that brought her from the stupor. “I do.” The words were simple, but they filled Willow’s body with giddiness. Tara nodded to herself, as deciding something. “I am, y’know?” 

All of the air left Willow’s lungs at once, her heart pounded loudly in her chest. As she spoke, her voice broke. “What?”

Tara, for her part, was completely at ease. The nervousness she had felt when she first saw Willow in the audience, the mind numbing terror of waiting to see her face to face again, it had all faded away in the moment when Willow had locked eyes with her. Gone was the flirtatious and bold Willow, and instead, in her place, stood the girl Tara had known so many years ago, if only for a night. Shy but so incredibly genuine it nearly broke Tara’s heart in two. Never before had she been so confident, she knew exactly what to say. She knew she meant it from the bottom of her heart, which she had given away eight years before. “Yours.” 

Emerald eyes searched sapphire blue, their close proximity, the heat of each others’ bodies through their clothes proved too alluring. They began to drift together, two sailboats on a course for collision. They slowed as they neared each other, Willow’s eyes darting back and forth in a frantic pattern of questioning, Should we? Can we? May I?, Do you need this as badly as I do? Until they bumped lips, unable to keep themselves from drifting closer even as they questioned the wisdom of such a move. 

The first bump was a shock, Willow was jolted by the contact, stunned and a little unsure. The second bump was a snap decision, made without thought, and left Tara no less confused, but a lot more certain. The third bump, if it could be called that, was more of a measured landing than anything else, lips brought together purposefully, not pulled away quickly, no rumbles of nervous giggles in their throats. Their lips pressed fully, a sinking sensation moreso than anything else, a melting, a joining. The spark of a match, if nothing else. The first kiss deepened quickly, lips sliding open, tongues meeting in a slow dance. Wet, soft, warm, like eating the perfect piece of fruit, soft and ripe and ready to be bitten, licked, sucked, enjoyed. Their bodies fell together in the style of their mouths, without conscious thought, merely an extension of what needed to be done. They fell back together on stage, pulling apart to breathe. They laid beside one another, staring up at the ceiling, unsure of what to say in the face of a kiss they had waited years to share and still defied their wildest of expectations. Years later, they’ll still debate which one of them reached out and laced their fingers together. 

* * *  
Tara couldn’t help but to giggle to herself. Willow kept talking and talking; she hadn’t stopped talking since they had kissed. There was no end to the amount of words she could get out with very little breathing involved. She shook her head, trying to focus on the words, and not how cute the redhead looked bouncing around in front of her. She looks like a balloon in the wind, Tara thought absently to herself. I waited eight years for you, I guess I can wait a few more minutes for you to deflate. She forced herself to zone back in. 

“Your work is incredible. I mean, the way you use words…” Willow stopped, trying to find some way to explain the effect that Tara’s poetry had on her. “I just can’t even fathom it.” She said with some resignation. Nectarines and honey. Woah. 

A blush quickly sprung to Tara’s cheeks, flushing them red. As much as she’d love to hear all about Willow’s reaction to her poetry, she couldn’t help but feel it wasn’t the right time. I can’t believe I read Nectarines and Honey to her. What was I thinking? She had a feeling they both could pass out from embarrassment. They’d been sitting and talking for two hours on the darkened stage, and had only begun to get the sketchiest details about each other’s lives. (They really might have walked right by each other in Sunnydale. Willow almost moved to Portland. Tara had gotten several book deals.) It was more than either of them could process in each other’s presence at the moment. “Willow.” Tara said the name again, allowed it to roll over her tongue. She was pleased to see those green eyes turn to her quickly. “As much as I love this…” 

Willow’s face quickly dropped into a look of utter despair. “You have to go do something else. I completely understand. Let me get out of your way. Thanks for talking to me.” Willow jumped to her feet, even as Tara reached out and grabbed her hand. 

“Willow!” She called out, pulling on the other girl’s hand to bring her back down. She shook her head in amusement. “You have a habit of running away from me.” 

Willow managed to look sheepish. “I’m sorry.” 

“As much as I love this, Willow…” She couldn’t resist pausing for dramatic effect, watching Willow’s face intently as they stared at each other. “I think we should probably go somewhere else? Powell’s will probably want their stage back.” She grinned. “Maybe we could go out to dinner? Or go for a walk? Or get a drink?” Maybe we could go out for a hundred dinners? Thousands of walks? I could make you coffee in the morning, you could make me tea in the afternoon. We could go out with our friends. We could have a little house, I could garden, you could have an entire room filled with computers. We could have sex in the morning, when you’re cute and disoriented with sleep. I could wrap my legs around you on the couch while we watch movies. 

“Like a date?” Willow’s voice was small, but her tongue pushed through her teeth as her lips curled into a grin. 

“Exactly like a date.” Tara replied, forming a half grin in response. 

“Lead the way.” Willow responded, silently swearing to herself, I’ll follow you anywhere, Tara Maclay. 

 

October, 2008  
Portland, Oregon

“Fuck it.” Tara said clearly, resolutely. With that, she picked herself up off the couch and held her hand out to Willow. “Come with me?” She asked, her voice and face softening. 

“I’ll follow you anywhere, Tara Maclay.” The words tumbled out of her mouth, and she recognized them as truth, just as they had been a month ago on that stage. Willow smiled up at Tara, grabbing the offered hand. 

As Tara led her down the hallway towards the bedroom Willow had grown to think of as theirs, a calm that Willow had never known took hold of her body. She knew this was right, she knew this was their moment. They’d waited so long, just to be sure, just to know that yes, it had been worth it, this waiting, these eight years of yearning for someone they had barely known. Each passing day did nothing but affirm to both Willow and Tara that this person who had once been nothing but a fantasy was in fact the one.   
Tara’s easy laughter, her patience, her kind and caring heart, these were just a few of thousands of details that Willow understood as reasons she loved the brunette. Her imagined Tara was a shadow of a person compared to the real woman, and Willow knew love. She knew it in the sway of her girlfriend’s hips as she led them forward. This was love, and she was ready to show Tara all of the love she had. She would beg if she had to, plead with this woman who was nothing short of goddess in Willow’s eyes. Please touch me. If you don’t, I might die with longing for it.

Tara glanced behind her as she reached out to grasp the doorknob, catching sight of Willow’s slightly dazed, eager expression. She couldn’t help but grin, consumed with love for the woman behind her. She had always assumed Willow was a kind, generous human being. She hadn’t understood that these qualities in Willow reached new levels, Willow was more generous than anyone she had ever met. Willow was kind to everyone – much the way Anya had always accused her of being. Her girlfriend, the woman who had searched for her for years, the woman who had uprooted her life just to be with Tara. She shook her head at the flood of thoughts. Fuck it. I love her. I want this. I’ve wanted this for too long. She pulled them both through the door, and kicked it shut behind them. 

They regarded each other for just a moment before their lips met, the same way they had that day on the stage. They met and devoured each other, stumbling over themselves to get to the bed. It was Willow who won dominance when they got there, she urged Tara to sit back on the bed, a gentle pressure on both her shoulders causing her to fall back. Willow knelt in front of her, pushing their lips back together, and bringing her trembling fingers to Tara’s shirt. She paused, pulling away from the kiss to look Tara in the eye. “I love you.” She said, a shade just above a whisper. Her fingers, shaking as they were, still managed to pry open the first of the buttons on Tara’s shirt. She placed a kiss on the skin there, over Tara’s breast bone. She kissed her neck, and then finally her mouth again. “I want you.” Again, her voice was barely more than a murmur, but she might as well have been shouting, Tara’s ears strained to hear any words her lover uttered. She was stunned into silence by the plain admissions. Another button undone, another kiss placed on the skin revealed. “Eight years.” It was almost a sigh. Two more buttons undone, Willow’s hands refrain from ripping the rest of the shirt open, but just barely. Her green eyes level with Tara’s blue. “I’ve been waiting eight years for you.” The reverence of tone forces Tara into action, she pushes forward, grabbing Willow’s face with both of her hands and kissing her soundly, opening her mouth with a sweeping gesture with her tongue. 

Tara’s dominance surprises Willow, so much so that she moans with pleasure. Tara breaks away from the kiss at the moan, her smile so laviscious Willow feels herself flood at the sight of it. When Tara presses her mouth to Willow’s ear, her voice is deep and throaty. “There hasn’t been a single day, not a single day of eight years that I haven’t imagined what it would feel like to have you here, in my bed. Every night I touched myself imagining your fingers, your tongue, your body on me, in me. When I come, it’s for you.” 

Willow’s hands find both sides of Tara’s shirt and pull. Buttons go flying and Tara gives out a gasp of surprise. Her mouth envelopes Tara’s lower lip, tugging it with her teeth as her hands slide over her lover’s flesh. Her hips buck forward into Tara, sending the brunette’s head back and giving Willow access to Tara’s throat. Tara’s pulse beats under Willow’s tongue, her thumbs brushing the pink nipples she had fantasized about back on the couch. They turn to pebbles under her touch, and Willow leans back to see her lover’s breasts for the first time. 

Light spills from the window, the golden glow of afternoon sun bathing Tara’s skin in the same hue, her breasts heavy in Willow’s hands. Tara’s eyes soak in the expression on Willow’s face, a mixture of innocent delight and naughty intent. Tara is unable to stop her hips from thrusting forward at the sight of it, her impatience getting the better of her. Willow slides her face down, brushing her cheek against the soft skin of Tara’s breast, before capturing her left nipple between her lips and sucking it into her mouth. Her hands work under the skirt, tracing slowly and draggin her nails up the outside of Tara’s thighs. Willow is enchanted by the moans now erupting from deep in Tara’s body and escaping her throat. She delights in the way Tara’s hips feel, full in her hands, as if her maker intended to make places for Willow’s hands to rest. Releasing the left nipple, she dives for the right, dragging her teeth slowly across it. Her fingers make lazy circles across the tops of Tara’s thighs, before diving between them and palming the flesh. “Baby?” 

It takes Tara a moment to respond, her thighs on fire where Willow’s hands are grabbing them. “Mmmm?” Is all she can force out. 

“Lay back for me?” 

She consents without a word, a hand on her stomach easing her back. Her skirt slides up, her hips jerk as she feels Willow place a kiss against her lips. She is completely unprepared for Willow’s tongue as the length of her is stroked. Willow groans. “Baby, you smell so good.” Willow’s tongue pushes deeper, and they both moan as it makes contact with her clit. “You taste so good.” Willow’s words are almost incoherent as they are muttered into her most sensitive parts. She arches her back as Willow slides a finger inside of her, her tongue beginning a pattern of lapping at Tara’s now fully erect clit. They begin to dance, moaning as Tara raises her hips into Willow’s tongue, groaning as they fall, forcing Willow’s finger to thrust into her. Their speed increases, the sounds of their lovemaking filling the air, Willow feels her wetness drip out of her and down her thigh. Willow has never known need like this, with Tara moving against her, surrounded by her lover’s desire. She slips a second finger inside of Tara, who cries out at the penetration. Together they move faster, arching and falling towards an eventual goal, the pressure building up in Tara’s abdomen, until she feels the waves of orgasm start. It pushes through her body, down to her toes, and up through her brain till the ends of her hair feel pleasure. She quakes with the intensity of it, rocking against Willow’s hand and mouth, thrusting herself hard against her until the last of the waves slow. 

Cold air brushes her sensitivity as Willow moves away from her. She feels the bed shift with Willow’s weight, and allows herself to be pulled into Willow’s arms. She is incapable of words, but she moans as she is wrapped up and into her lover. Their quiet breathing fills the emptiness left by the moans that have scattered to the winds. The sun sets as they lay together, silently, words wasted in the face of something so singular, so separate from the world. They are united now, two against it all, and the language of others is not needed in the face of their action.


	14. Chapter 14

Portland, Oregon  
June, 2011

…The look on your face was something akin to torture, your gaze transfixed on her. Only by waving my arms in front of your face did your attention drift back to me. There was an apology already written between the specks of yellow in your green eyes, and I couldn’t bare to look, already knowing what your lips were moving to say. The words that came forth were no less heartbreaking. “I’m sorry.”

You are thousands of miles away again, and I thought, for a moment, it would be better if I’d never found you, never known. Still, my darling, I had to say something, answer somehow, even when the words felt like bile spilling from my throat. “I love you.” Certainly it’s the truth, but you shook your head as if wasn’t.. 

“I don’t know what to say, I just…” You trailed off, looking away guiltily – but not shamefully enough to stop you from sparing a glance in her direction. The hollowness of your smile was for my benefit, the smile for hers. 

”I was too late.” I responded, forcing my eyes not to follow yours. Again you nodded, and I was surprised by the single tear that made it’s way down your cheek, surprised by the way your eyes suddenly met mine. And finally, I saw it – the spark of them when you saw me wholly. I was too late, you’d already given yourself to someone else. But there was a chance once, my love, if only I’d known you when it was mine. 

You stepped forward to embrace me, my heart wept as you wrapped me in your arms, your face embedded in my hair. I heard you inhale deeply, and as you pulled away, my surprise grew to find more tears rolling down your face. “I’ll miss what we could have been.” 

I found a smile tugging at my lips, despite the sharp edge of your words shredding my heart into pieces. “What could have been.” Despite the fact that she was standing there, waiting for you, you stayed, looking into my eyes as we were both lost to the ifs of our lives. It’s what gave me the courage to lean forward, capturing your lips with mine. It began as a peck, but I pushed forward still, the images of my imagined us flowing through my mind. The breeze of a caress that this kiss was meant to be becomes much more, as I attempted to pour the years I would have loved you, the lifetime I would have given you, into the press of our lips. I didn’t care that she was there, behind us, I didn’t care that after that day I would have no reason to ever see you again, and these years I’d spent waiting, looking, and hoping will become a sad story I’ve never told. 

That kiss, that moment with you will be all I’ll ever have, so I made it mine, ours, and our what could have been becomes what should have been becomes what simply is, and finally, as our lips separated and you eyed me with a shocked expression, it is what was. What was, my love. What was. I left you then, not turning back. There are days when I still wish I had. Perhaps if I did, I would have found you waiting for me. That’s why I didn’t. It’s that thought that keeps me warm at night – our ifs will never die. Our what could have been. 

Willow allowed the pages of the book to flutter closed as she raised her tear stained eyes to the garden. She pushed her slippered feet against the old wooden boards of the porch, a heavy groan her answer, and she gazed out into the yard. The sun had begun to rise just an hour ago, and it bathed Tara’s garden in beautiful gold light. She smiled at it, the image of Tara covered in dirt and sweat, humming to herself while she worked coming easily to her mind. Setting the book down beside her, she rose, picking up her coffee cup and wrapping her fingers around it for warmth, she stood at the railing, gazing out. Too many thoughts flooded her mind, and she wished, not for the first time that morning, that she had stayed curled up in bed, Tara’s arms around her. She missed the warmth of her girlfriend now, in the cold dew of the morning. It was an ache she lived with most of her days, the wanting. 

She wasn’t surprised when a few moments later the screen door swung open, and a sweater was placed tenderly around her shoulders, supplemented nicely by the firm press of Tara’s body into hers. Lips and warm breath pressed into the side of her neck, her ear, her chin. “Good morning, baby.” Tara whispered, her gaze fixed, like Willow’s, out into the garden. 

“Mornin’.” She answered warmly, easing back into the tight embrace. 

“You’re up very early.” Tara’s smile was evident in her tone, Willow closed her eyes, and again images of Tara came readily to her. “What are you doing out here?” 

She paused, taking in their yard one last time before turning in the embrace, and placing a kiss on her girlfriend’s expectant lips. She wrapped her arms around Tara’s neck, snuggling her body in. Muffled, she replied, “Reading your book.” 

She didn’t look up, but she heard the surprise in Tara’s voice. “Oh.” There was a pregnant pause. “Why?” Tara’s voice was smaller now, the calm of sleepiness wearing off into slight panic. 

Willow laughed, and finally raised her face to meet Tara’s gaze. The evidence of her crying was clear. “I never did.” She smiled, moving a hand to cup the woman’s cheek. “I thought it was time now.” 

“I suppose I should be happy you’re taking an interest in my work.” The teasing tone was back. 

“You know I have a great interest in your work.” 

Tara couldn’t help but smile at that. “So you showed me last night. Quite the inspiration, you are.” A quiet calm grew between them as they gazed at each other. “I thought you read it years ago.” 

Willow glanced down shyly. “I couldn’t. When I knew it was yours, that you had written it, I couldn’t read it. I knew it was about us, and I didn’t want to know that you had exorcised me by writing your book.” 

“Exorcised you?” Tara asked. 

“That you used your book as a way to get over me.” Willow responded.

Tara’s hold on her tightened. “And now?” 

“Now I’m just sad for us.” Willow’s eyes opened in panic, and she rushed to continue. “The us in your book. We lost each other.” She sighed, tracing her fingers over Tara’s face. “I can’t imagine a world where that would happen.” 

Tara nodded, understanding. “I was lost when I wrote it.” 

“I found you.” Willow’s fingers dropped back, her arm wrapping back around Tara’s neck. 

She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the redhead’s lips. “I found you.” She smiled, kissing up Willow’s chin before resting her lips against her ear. “I’ll always find you.” She murmured. 

“Or Dawn will find us.” Willow grinned. 

Tara’s head flew back, and she caught sight of her girlfriend’s grin, and they both began to laugh. “Dawn will always find us.” 

“That’s so true, it’s scary.” They continued to laugh, unencumbered by worry. “I love you.” 

“I love you too, baby.” Tara led them back to the swing, and they sat, sipping their coffee, and watching the sun light up their yard with the day. 

Sunnydale, California  
June, 2012

The clinking of glass and bottles was ignored as the party was cleaned up around them. Slightly drunk and more than happy, the seven of them sat around the last table, drinking the end of their cocktails, refusing to allow the night to end. 

“Does anybody else think they’ve made a terrible mistake?” Buffy whined from her seat, eagerly awaiting back up from any one of her friends. 

“Aww, c’mon, Buffster, it’s not hard to see that those crazy kids really care about each other.” Xander responded, resting a hand on Buffy’s shoulder in a symbol of solidarity. 

“It’s just, they haven’t been together that long! It’s only been a few years, and we’re all still so young, I just don’t know if I’m ready for this.” Buffy bit her lip and looked up at Xander, her eyes pleading with him. 

“Look at it this way, B – there’s nothing you can do about it now.” Buffy sighed as Faith spoke up, returning from the bar with a fresh round of drinks. 

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it.” She responded, before picking her new drink up, and offering the girl a look of thanks. 

Giles nodded. “Don’t worry, Buffy.” He responded kindly, offering her a smile. “I believe those two have a real chance together.” 

“Listen to the G-Man, B, he’s got years of experience at this marriage thing.” Faith dropped her body into a seat beside Buffy. 

Buffy nodded reluctantly. “I suppose you’re right, I guess there’s just a part of me that’s not ever going to be ready to deal with it.”

“Like how you can’t deal about sex?” Anya asked, her face the perfect picture of innocence as she sipped from the straw of her fruity drink, the paper umbrella brushing against the top of her lip. 

Buffy sighed, long suffering. “No, Anya. Not like sex at all.” 

“An’s got a point there, Buff, you are kind of a no go on the sex life these days.” Xander helpfully filled in from his supportive position behind her. A position that in no way spared him from the death glare that came his way. 

“Well, it’s hard when everyone around me is so… active.” 

“Especially your sister!” Anya exclaimed happily. 

“Anya!” The voice came from behind them, and the assorted group turned to see Willow and Tara approaching from the direction of the bathroom. “You shouldn’t be making Buffy feel bad, especially not today.” Tara chastised her long time friend. “And you all shouldn’t be helping.” 

Looking appropriately remiss, they all muttered apologies directed towards Buffy, who positively beamed at the kindness of someone who finally stood up for her. Which is probably why she was so shocked as Willow chimed in, “Especially since Dawn’s been at it like a rabbit lately!” 

Faith let out a throaty laugh as Anya nodded her approval. Giles’ glasses were swept off of his face in a familiarly comforting gesture, and Buffy and Xander sat with their mouths open, staring at their best friend – who never used to say things like that. “Willow.” Tara was the only one who could answer, though even she seemed to be fighting back a chuckle. “Leave your friend alone.” After all, Dawn had been staying with them recently, and it wasn’t entirely untrue. 

Willow’s laughing eyes caught Buffy’s, and she grinned. “Sorry. I get into the spirit of teasing and I just can’t stop myself.” 

Tara threw a look at Willow, and they both sat with the rest of the group. Tara offered some kindness. “Buffy, she looked beautiful today. She was so happy.” 

Buffy’s eyes filled with tears again. “I can’t believe my Dawnie got married.” 

“It is hard to believe the Dawnster beat us all out.” Xander kissed the top of Buffy’s head as he finished speaking. Giles coughed, and Xander quickly added, “Except Giles. Giles was married in the Stone Age.” 

Before Giles could object, Anya exclaimed, “Ha! More like the Stoned Age. You guys should really see some of the photos from his wedding.” 

Out of politeness, Buffy, Xander, Tara, and Willow all managed to hold back their chuckles. Faith, on the other hand, joined Anya in nearly spitting out her drink with laughter.

“Yes well, I’m so glad I’ve made friends with you lot. Lesbians, neurotics and sex addicts – at least I manage to hold my tongue.” Giles sighed, finally placing his glasses back on his face in time to see them all holding their tongues. He rolled his eyes. “Alright, time then for old men to get some rest.” He stood. “Congratulations Buffy.” He raised his glass and a genuine smile creeped onto his face. “Congratulations to our little family.” To the toast, they all raised their glasses. After he downed his, Giles slid away from the table, pressing a hand into Buffy, and then Tara’s shoulders and heading out the door. 

They all called out various forms of “goodnight, Giles”, and turned back to their conversation. They were so involved, they missed the bride and groom sneaking back into the ballroom. A very happy Dawn pounced on her sister. “Hi guys!” She called, as Buffy let out an “oomph.” Justin slid into a seat next to Xander and Faith, who slapped him on the back in congratulations. 

“What are you doing down here?” Willow asked, happy to see them. 

“Dawn missed you guys.” Justin smiled at his new bride. “Besides, we don’t leave for the honeymoon until the morning, so we figured – why not hang out with the family?” 

Dawn smiled back at Justin adoringly, before shifting her gaze back to the group. “We love you all. Thank you so much for all of your help. We never could have done this without you!” Buffy and Tara made no effort to hide their tears as they looked proudly on the two recent college graduates. Faith and Xander both conveniently got “something in their eye”, and glanced away. Dawn leaned down to whisper to her sister. “And thank you. For everything. And for giving me away.” She smiled, and placed a kiss on her forehead that echoed Xander’s from before. Her eyes raised from Buffy to Xander. “And thank you for being my big brother.” Dawn ignored the tears welling up in her eyes, content that they were out of gratitude. “So, who’s getting me a drink?” 

“That would be me. What would you like?” Justin jumped up. 

“Woah dude, you are way whipped.” Faith rose with him, before casting a wink to Dawn. “Way to go, Dawnie.” Justin and Dawn grinned at each other in response. “Eww, enough, let’s just go get you two some drinks.” 

Dawn rose from Buffy’s lap, and strode over to Willow and Tara. “You know, without you two this wouldn’t be possible.” 

“You would have found each other, Dawn.” Willow responded. 

“Maybe, yeah. But… it was because of you two that I believe it’s possible to have a good marriage.” 

Tara looked at Dawn quizically. “We’re not married.” 

Dawn rolled her eyes. “Really? ‘Cuz, duh.” She knelt between them. “What I mean is, it’s because of you two that I believe it’s possible that love can be enough. You waited eight years for each other, and I think that the truth is, you would have waited much longer. And that is amazing. Enough to make even the most hardened cynic…” Dawn glanced over her shoulder, purposefully shooting Buffy a look, “believe in love.” 

“Dawn, I don’t know what to say.” Tara responded, crying again. 

“Don’t say anything. Just, thank you.” Dawn wrapped Tara in a hug before turning to Willow. “And thank you for being my sister, too. You mean the world to me.” She wrapped her arms around Willow as well. Pulling back, she shifted her gaze mischeviously from one of them to the next. “Now, when are you two going to get married?” 

Portland, Oregon  
January, 2009

Willow snored. It was adorable, really, in the face of everything else that the redheaded wonder of a girl was, she was a snorer. Over the past few months, Tara had spent more than one night lying awake in her bed, listening to her new girlfriend. Not only did she snore, but she also had a habit of speaking while she slept. For the most part, this was a harmless thing to do, she often spoke nonsensical things that almost certainly related to her dreams. There was, however, the odd evening when the things Willow said were not nonsensical at all. Tara was certain they were related to her dreams the same way the other things Willow said were, except on these few occassions, Willow said truly dirty things. Amazingly dirty things. The kind of things that woke Tara up from a sound sleep because her sleeping brain found them arousing enough to force Tara awake. Suddenly. The first time it happened, Tara’s eyes were open only for a moment before she heard her girlfriend. 

“I need to be inside you. Please, let me fuck you.” Willow’s voice was clear as day, and Tara, for all of her lack of sleep, had been perfectly willing to let her girlfriend do whatever she needed. She wanted to fulfill all of Willow’s needs. So when she had turned towards her girlfriend, pulling on the redhead’s hand to push it down her pajamas, she was… surprised… when Willow let out a moan of dissatisfaction, and turned on her side away from her. This had led to the first of Tara’s “Willow talks in her sleep” discoveries. 

Tonight, Willow was in rare form. “I’m so wet, please, fuck me, please. I’m wet for you, baby. I want you to fill me.”

Tara followed her first instincts, and slipped her hand into her own pajamas, feeling a little guilty in the process. Still, the sound of Willow begging to be fucked didn’t bode well for Tara sleeping soundly through the night. It would have been rude to wake up her girlfriend (especially since Tara had yet to mention her discovery for fear it would stop). She slipped a finger between her lips, and bit back the moan that came as she pushed down across her clit. Listening to Willow had made her very wet. She rolled her hips, and began a steady rhythm with her finger, circling her own clit and moaning into her pillow. Tara was close, but not nearly close enough as Willow began anew. “Fuck me, baby, please, so hard. I need you, fuck, yes, god, bigger, more, fuck.” 

Unable to control herself, she rolled onto her side, pushing into Willow’s ass with her hips. Her head rolled back, and she thrust her hips forward, her finger still curled around her clit. She made no attempt to hold back the moans, desperately wanting Willow to wake up so she could comply with the redhead’s requests. 

Willow, for her part, was asleep – but not stupid. As the thrusting began, she felt herself being pulled out of her very satisfying dream, and back into it in her waking world. She felt Tara thrust against her ass, the hand that Tara had snaked down her own pajamas, and her own arousal. She moaned at the next thrust, and almost again when she heard Tara moan her name behind her. 

“Will?” 

Willow couldn’t believe her luck. She had always imagined that she and Tara would have a healthy sex life, but nothing had prepared her for how amazing it actually was. In the past three months, her knowledge of her own sexuality and of sex in general had quadrupled with each experience they had together. After their first time, things between them had only gotten better, easier, sexier. Tara’s continued moans and thrusts finally clued Willow in to the fact that something was happening without her. 

“Baby?” She reponded to Tara’s earlier inquiry. 

“Oh.” She moaned. “Thank God.” She thrust. “You’re awake.” 

“And you are…?” Willow asked, knowing the answer, but desperately wanting to hear it from her girlfriend’s mouth. 

“Fucking myself.” The response was short in words, but long in action. Willow found herself suddenly pushed and thrust down as Tara climbed on top of her. She continued her thrusts, but now she brought herself down against Willow’s pelvis, which instinctively rose to meet her. Willow’s eyes sought Tara’s, and when they met, a sexy smile sprung onto Tara’s lips. Continuing to ride Willow, and reached and pulled her sleeping shirt up and over her head, her large breasts spilling out and bouncing with the rest of her body. Willow’s hands reached up and cupped them, she arched her back up and took one in her mouth as her fingers grazed, tweaked, and gently pulled the other. She grazed the nipple with her teeth, trying to match Tara’s bounces up, down, up, down. Tara’s arms raised over her head, crossing at the wrists, and her blue eyes bore down at Willow beneath her. “Willow.” She said the name like a statement, a command. 

“Baby?” The answer was a question, Willow seeking direction from the goddess riding her lap. 

“Are you wet?” Tara’s voice was steel, her gaze soft, sensual. 

“Soaked.” Willow answered, raising her hips to meet Tara’s thrust again. 

“Do you want me to fuck you?” She asked, leaning forward and trapping Willow’s face between her breasts, forcing her girlfriend back down onto the bed, and trapping her arms over her head. 

“Yes.” Willow breathed, too softly from between Tara’s ample breasts. 

“What baby?” Tara asked again, arching her back to trail a hardened nipple over Willow’s cheek and dropping it into her mouth. 

Willow’s lips wrapped around the offering, and she sucked it deep into her mouth, once, twice, again, before releasing it and looking up into her girlfriend’s eyes. “I want you to fuck me.” 

Tara’s smile was predatory, and in a smooth motion, Tara and Willow’s pants were sliding off of Willow’s body. Tara trailed up Willow’s left leg with her tongue and teeth, licking and nipping at the skin. She paid special attention to the freckles, humming to herself as she slowly edged up towards the intoxicating fountain of Willow. She placed a kiss at the apex of Willow’s lips before trailing back down the right leg. Willow thrust her hips forward impatiently, not expecting Tara to slip easily through the river of her and slide three fingers deep inside. 

Willow gasped, raising her hips off the bed. Tara pulled herself back up Willow’s body, fingers still deep inside, and began placing light kisses all over the redhead’s face. “Are you okay?” She whispered. 

“I’m good.” Willow replied shakily. “You’re huge.” 

Tara grinned, before flexing her fingers inside of her girlfriend. “You like it?” 

Willow experiementally raised her hips before slamming them back down, and moaned loudly. “I want it.” 

With a kiss, Tara began to pump her fingers in and out of her girlfriend, pinning her hips down with her stomach, and trailing down her neck. She began to murmur quietly under her breath, but Willow could hear her. “You talk while you sleep, normally cute little things, like, the monkey is attacking the licorice fort, or something silly. Very Willow, I like it. But sometimes, you start saying things.” She reached her thumb up and caught Willow’s clit. “Tonight you begged for someone to fuck you.” She began a relentless pattern of running over it with alternating pressures, and felt Willow’s muscles clench at her fingers. “I couldn’t help myself.” She stilled for a moment, pulling her fingers out to the tips. “I wanted to fuck you so badly.” She pushed all three fingers hard and deep, causing Willow to throw her head back, calling out some expletive. Tara grinned, resuming the clit play. She licked a bead of sweat that had begun to roll down Willow’s chest. “I want you.” She twisted her hand inside of Willow, pushing all three fingers upward, and began to thrust at an angle. 

Willow’s hips leaped off the bed, and her mouth opened and words poured from it. “Oh fuck. Oh, fuck me. Oh fuck. Oh, God. Baby. Tara. Please. Oh, God. Harder. Oh, right there, baby, oh fuck me, please, I want it, I want you, please baby, Tara please hard, hard, hard.” 

Tara felt Willow’s muscles begin to tighten around her fingers, saw her hands clench to fists, her words died down to incoherent moans, and Tara stopped all of her movements completely. “I want you, Willow.” She repeated, her voice was rough from the flood of sex through her blood. She forced three quick thrusts into Willow, and the redhead’s toes curled. A sure sign things had begun. She remained still inside of her girlfriend, waiting for the shaking to stop. Slowly, she pulled her fingers loose, and climbed till their faces met. 

Willow’s heavy breathing didn’t stop her smile. “That’s some way to wake up.” 

“I love you, Willow.” Tara kissed each of Willow’s eyelids in turn. 

“I love you, Tara.” They pressed their lips together, before melting back onto the bed. “Best time ever?” Willow asked after a pause. Her voice was as sleepy as it had been when she first felt Tara against her. 

“Best time yet.” Tara’s lips kissed her lover’s shoulder as they both drifted back to sleep. 

Portland, Oregon  
November, 2023

“We have a very special speaker today, as part of our Wordstock series. Early in her career, she wrote children’s books, as well as erotic poetry compilations under the name Tara Adams. Please welcome her to the Wordstock Festival, you know her as Portland’s own, Tara Maclay.” 

The audience erupted with applause as Tara took the stage with a smile. Her eyes swept over the crowd, resting finally on some distant spot in the back of the auditorium. The smile on her face changed over into a grin. “It’s a great honor to be here today. I love Portland, and I love Wordstock. I’ve been coming to this festival ever since my career started, meeting authors I loved and celebrating words, language, and writing. In many ways, this City has been a lifesaver for me. So many good things have happened here, and I’m honored to be a respresentative of it to the world. As many of you probably know, my writing hasn’t changed much over the years, and this is true in one very specific regard: I only write about one thing. My beautiful muse.” She paused, her eyes moving back to that same spot in the distance. “My wife. Without her, I wouldn’t be here. Thank you, baby. I love you.” She shook her head, an attempt to refocus on the task at hand. “Today, I’m going to read you ‘Landscape’.” 

bare  
bushes of thorns  
frequent the landscape  
sun sets  
on breeze kissed cheeks  
empty   
amphitheater echoes silence

beyond  
our busied mouths foreground  
skyline  
lights up with the mood  
blanketing wind curls  
around our melded forms

elder couple  
rooted at the ankles  
limbs twisted around   
each other  
mirror our history and   
smile wisely

you  
are lost in the thaw  
momentarily  
I can see the edge   
of forever  
and it glows

 

The End.


End file.
